Once Upon a Time Turner
by K505 Bah
Summary: Happiness in Harry Potter's life is fleeting – much like fireworks exploding in the night sky, they quickly fade. After the birth of his third child, Harry was betrayed by the woman he called his wife and by his friends and family...(full description pairing in chapter 1) this is slash/harem/time travel.
1. Chapter 1

**Explicit Adult Content – Read at your Own discretion**

Created, Written and Illustrated by k505

Additional Illustrations by No One Currently – Looking for Artists

Edited and Proofread by No One Currently – Looking for Editors

 **Dedicated to my Favorite Time Travel-Reincarnation Fanfiction Authors**

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 **(Full) Disclaimer:** I do not own JK Rowling's Magical World (The Harry Potter Series (books 1-7/Films 1-8), Quidditch throughout the Ages (book), The Tales of Beetle the Bard (book), the Cursed Child (script), Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them (film)) or the Labyrinth film. They belong to their creators and various publishers. No, money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. This fictional story is the product of my imagination and shared for entertainment purposes, not for profit.

 **Once Upon a Time Turner, Book One of the Memories of Ghosts Series**

 **Summary:** Happiness in Harry Potter's life is fleeting – much like fireworks exploding in the night sky, they quickly fade. After the birth of his third child, Harry was betrayed by the woman he called his wife and by his friends and family. His entire life was fabricated by a duplicitous and manipulative old goat and three whiney redheads in order to gain power, prestige and wealth. Imprisoned in the Potter manor, while someone else wears his face and uses his name, Harry falls into a deep depression. Then Hermione breaks free of the compulsion spells and potions placed on her by her so-called husband, Ronald. She seeks out her one and only friend, the real Harry James Potter. They concoct a complex plan to change the world and to create a better, brighter future for the world, through time travel. Harry, now under a different identity, is determined to honor Hermione's sacrifice.

 **Future Main Pairing(s):** Tom M. Riddle Jr./Lucius Malfoy/Severus Snape/Wyatt Ravenswood/Charles Urquhart/Antares Black (HP)

 **Future/Established Side Pairing(s):** Marius Gaunt ǀ Alt. Dark Lord/Bellatrix Black/Evan Rosier/Barty Crouch Jr./Alecto Carrow/Hestia Carrow/Flora Carrow/Pansy Parkinson/Morag McDougal/Daphne Greengrass/Nadia Nott, Undecided/Reinaldo McNair, Arcturus Black/Melania McMillan, Charlus Potter/Dorea Black, Altair Potter/Elizabeth McKinnon, Joshua Ryder/Aurelius Potter, Pollux Black/Irma Crabbe, Cygnus Black/Druella Rosier, Theodore Tonks/Andromeda Black, Magnus Ravenswood/Arthur Weasley/Byrne McCaffrey, Oliver Wood/Francis "Frankie" Belby, Gregory "Greg" Belby/Angelina Johnson, Percival Rookwood/Audrey Whittle, Aquila Black/Julius Potter/Nicodemus Diggory/Daemon Bones, Alessander Blythe/Sirius Black, Vernon Dursley/Adele Addison, Paul Martin/Petunia Dursley, Dudley Dursley/Lavinia Richards, Scorpius Malfoy/Astoria Greengrass, Corbin Capulet/Erin Lovegood, Roger Davies/Cedric Diggory/Isaiah Holmes-Moriarty, Bran Kensington/Erik Lovegood/Aistan Kamel/Tao-Peng Lin/Basilio Leone/Indra Kumar/Oleander Malfoy, Draco Malfoy/Lysander Trelawney, Laurence Scamander/Ophelia Malfoy/Nymphadora Tonks, Odysseus Malfoy/Hermione Holmes-Moriarty, Neville Longbottom/Hannah Abbott, Percival Graves/Newton Scamander, Theseus Scamander/Leta Lestrange, Abraxas Malfoy/Queenie Goldstein, Claudius Malfoy/Narcissa Black, Rodolphus Lestrange/Rabastan Lestrange, Nikola Watson/Dianna Potter, Remus Lupin/Fiona Wellington/Josie Martinez/Elysia Frost/Claire Morten/Rhea DuBois, Auric D'Arcy/Amelie Chastain-Leone/Henrik Frost, Xenophilius Lovegood/Aleksander Chastain-Leone, Rolf Scamander/Luna Lovegood

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Listen carefully, my dear reader… Humans fear what they cannot predict, what they cannot control and what they cannot understand. To use magic and to see the true nature of this world, one must free themselves of these fears. If you want to see beyond the façade of the ordinary and predictable, you must embrace the unknown and face the fact that not everything is dictated by logic and reason. Suspend your criticism and doubts and believe in something greater and more wonderful than you can ever imagine.

 **Introduction**

* * *

 **Introduction**

Becoming the Wolf

"Have you ever dealt with people who have lost everything in just an hour? In the morning you leave the house where your wife, your children, your parents live. You return, and you find a smoking pit. Then something happens to you - to a certain extent you stop being human. You do not need any glory, money anymore; revenge becomes your only joy. And because you no longer cling to life, death avoids you, the bullets fly past. You become a wolf." - **Russian General Aleksander Lebed**

"Please," I beg, "I want to see my children, Ginny! Please, please let me see my kids!" I plead desperately with the middle-aged redheaded woman, my eyes are wild with fear. My desperation gnaws at me like a lion at an antelope's leg. It's a helpless sickening feeling. I am panicking, I fear that I would be alone once more without having seen my children, even for a moment. I reach for her wrist unconsciously. She sneers down on me from where I am on my knees on the white marble floor, begging. Drawing her foot back she lands a kick in my gut and I crumple in on myself. By the time I had recovered, wheezing, the massive front door slams shut behind the redheaded woman. I stare at the redwood door uncomprehendingly for several moments. I am alone once more. I am imprisoned in the old Potter Estate alone, always alone. Ginny has gotten what she wants, she had forced me to impregnate her, again, like some prized stud. However, she had not followed through with her half of the bargain. "Fuck!" I curse slamming my fist against the marble wall of the foyer, tears of frustration and anger trail down my cheeks. Maybe, I was stupid, gullible or just desperate enough to see my kids that I had believed she'd uphold her half of the bargain. Maybe, she'd slipped me something or spelled me befuddled. Maybe, I am just lonely, and I let myself be used, desperate for some human contact. If I am brutally honest with myself, it is the last option.

The carnal pleasures we commit together always leaves a bad taste in my mouth and later, I knew I will be sick over the toilet. Sick of my own desperation, sick of Ginny's greed (her wanton moans still ring in my ears, as does her sickening praise) and sick of the act itself. She'd forced my hand, but I had still committed the carnal act. Although, I can lay with women, my sexual preference lies in my own gender. I am so lonely, trapped in these echoing old halls. I desperately want to see my kids.

Ginny and her mother had used dark magic and blood magic to imprison me here against my will. Then they had given my face and name to someone else. Unfortunately, whoever was wearing my face is infertile. So, I was Ginny's only means for children. She is desperate for more children before she reaches an age she cannot carry children. I am trapped eternally in my seventeen years old form – young and fertile.

I received the Daily Prophet and read as "Harry Potter" bolstered his fame as an Auror with his daring rescues of victims and captures of criminals. Whomever was wearing my identity was almost suicidal in their drive to save everyone. Sometimes I wondered if my imposter was actually suicidal, wanting to escape the Weasley's control. I had tried suicide, but the Master of Death title was not some child's fairytale, after all. I had cleaned up the evidence before Ginny and Molly discovered my inability to stay dead in addition to my eternal youth. I didn't want them to capitalize on that knowledge.

I sink to the floor burying my head in my hands. I wondered how James Sirius and Albus Severus were handling Hogwarts. Were they pranksters like their grandfather? Did James or Albus love to fly, like I did? Did either of them inherit my parselmouth abilities? I wondered what Lily Luna looked like? Did she look more like her mother or her grandmother? I wondered about this child, the one I had just put in Ginny's womb, would it be a little boy or girl?

"Harry?" a feminine voice whispers hesitantly. I look up slowly, expecting to see Ginny, but my eyes widen when I see an aged Hermione Granger-Weasley. She is still undeniably Hermione, but there is something in her eyes – a coldness and bitterness. My eyes narrow. I only have fond memories of Hermione, but I do not if she is part of this plot.

"Have you come to see the Weasley's prisoner and prized stud? Come to taunt or torture me?" I ask bitterly.

"No," Hermione bit out angrily, "I came to see my one and only friend, the real Harry James Potter."

"And now you found me." I say carefully, "What do you want?"

"Harry you were not the only one fooled by the Weasley family or trapped in a miserable prison." Hermione claims firmly. "Although my prison was my marriage to Ronald, whereas yours is more physical. They drugged me with love potions and other mind-altering substance, I had not been myself for a long time... May I come in?"

I hesitate, for just a moment, before pushing open the massive front door. I stare out across the hidden valley which houses Potter manor. The valley is lush with wildlife, a dirt track leads deep into the forest from the side. I cannot leave the manor, even to go to the gardens. Open doors and windows are my only way to experience the outdoors, but I cannot step outside. The blood ritual repels me from passing any threshold into the outdoors. The summer sunlight filters down through the twisted branches of the trees which create a long tree-alley framing the front door to the edge of the property. Hermione steps through the doorway and her arms embrace me. I do not embrace her back, I involuntary shake at her touch. I have not been touched in a platonic and positive manner for many years. "I'm sorry, Harry." She says pulling back and wiping her eyes.

"How did you find me?" I ask cautiously.

"I followed the redhead bitch." Hermione says, "Ginny Weasley is not as stealthy as she believes. I am sorry, I didn't come sooner Harry, but I had to blackmail Ronald into a divorce. I managed to break the compulsions on me, several months ago."

"How did you manage that?" I ask in surprise.

"I was joking around in the Weasley kitchen and told your double an inside joke and he didn't recognize it. I quickly realized it wasn't you. The shock allowed me to overpower the compulsion." Hermione says, we sit on the white marble steps of the staircase.

"Do you know who it is?" I ask cautiously, the identity of my double has always troubled me.

"It's not human," Hermione says in a strange tone, "It's a subspecies of a dryad and a Leshy with unique shapeshifting capabilities. Albus and the Weasley family began growing it in Dumbledore Manor's greenhouse in your fifth year. It's the last of its species. Well, it was the last of its species. It has been breeding with a number of witches."

"Then why did Ginny…" I ask softly, trailing off. Why did Ginny force me to impregnate her? Was it just to hurt me?

"I imagine she doesn't want the thing to lay three avocado-sized seeds in her. The seeds become as large as ostrich eggs before the woman gives birth. The eggs then hatch two days later." Hermione says in her patent-professor tone.

"Why would any woman want that?" I ask in horror.

Hermione blushes fiercely, "Apparently the thing is well endowed. Also, when the eggs rock inside the girls, they cause powerful orgasms." She concludes.

"How many people know about it officially?" I ask.

"Well, there's Ginny, Ron and Molly. Then it's breeders, who are Lavender Brown, Padma Patil, Cho Chang, Marietta Edgecombe, Katie Bell, Fay Dunbar, Morag McDougal, and Tracey Davis. Then there's three Healers at St. Mungo's and reluctantly Kingsley Shacklebolt. Shacklebolt has been trying to find you and rescue you, but the Weasleys have blackmail on him." Hermione finished.

"That's rather disappointing," I say. That so many people know I am missing and have done nothing, is a stab to the heart. Furthermore, that Kingsley, the man I remember for his integrity and bravery is being blackmailed by the Weasleys, is an uncomfortable thought. I have always thought Shacklebolt was far more honest than that.

"I know," Hermione muttered. "Harry," she says hesitantly, "Harry, I know you want to leave Potter manor, but don't." She rushes in case I cut her off, but I am too shocked, "The Weasleys, they've been passing laws under your name. They're very discriminatory laws. Your double has had multiple assassination attempts on him. The papers spin it off as arrests of Dark Wizards, but it's not just dark creatures and wizards and witches. Even if we did find a way to get you out of here. No one would help you. They wouldn't let you live long enough to explain. You're hated by a large majority of the magical populace." Hermione says sadly.

"What about my kids, I can't leave them unprotected and alone." I plead desperately.

"The kids know…" Hermione says after a moment of silence, "Well, at least James Sirius and Lily Luna do. They've been indoctrinated to hate you and think you were a spoiled and selfish bastard who refused to share your wealth with the family."

"What…" I gasp, my lips moving soundlessly. "How…"

Hermione looks close to tears, "I overheard them speaking with my daughter and Molly. My own fucking daughter called me a cow." Hermione says, tears spilling down her cheeks. "You know, Ron began dousing me with mind-altering potions in fourth year. I hate Ron. Ron essentially raped me and forced me to give birth to his children…I hate them all." Hermione sobs as I gather her into my arms hesitantly. I am crying soundlessly as Hermione sobs. She is wailing as if in pain. Perhaps she is. The Weasleys destroyed us. Hermione and I are broken and bitter people.

* * *

"That thing isn't Harry Potter." Draco snarled at his father from his cell. The Malfoy father and son had adjacent cells in Azkaban. Lucius had been trapped in Azkaban for the last fifteen years, but Draco had only been imprisoned for five months, "I think I'd know my own schoolyard nemesis." Draco snarled. The cold depths of the dank prison chill Draco to the bone.

"So, our boy hero is dead and gone? Destroyed by the Light faction?" Lucius snarked back, "Now, you see why I sided with the Dark faction." Lucius says haughtily.

"Daddy," Scorpius whispered, "I'm hungry." Draco pulled his son onto his lap. Lucius looked worriedly at his son and his grandson. Draco was already halving his food to give his son more. His fair-haired son, Draco, was rail thin from the lack of substantial food, much like Lucius was. Scorpius was steadily fading away. The Dementors targeted the child the most. When, not if, Scorpius died, Lucius feared for his son's sanity. Lucius watched though the gloom as Draco carded his fingers through Scorpius's hair in a soothing manner. The thirteen-year-old boy curled in on himself on Draco's lap. Although, Lucius was not a demonstrative man and loved to argue with his son, Lucius cared deeply for his child.

The Greengrass girl, whom his wife had arranged to marry Draco, was not in Azkaban. Astoria Greengrass had sold the location of her husband and son for her own freedom. Lucius wished he could rub that fact into his wife's, Narcissa's, face. However, the woman had killed herself before she could be placed in Azkaban. Narcissa had slit her throat in front of the Aurors and Draco. The Aurors restrained Draco and watched gleefully as Narcissa bled out. Fuck Potter and the Light side, Lucius thought, let them all rot. The sound of waves crashing against the rock and the moans and screams of the prisoners are Scorpius's lullaby. No child, no child should be thrown into prison for the crimes of his or her family. However, far too often Lucius was seeing their appearance in Azkaban again and again. It disgusts him and forces him to fight back his rage. He wants them dead for their crimes against the dark faction. Yes, he was not a good man, but he didn't target children. They were the monsters.

* * *

"Hermione, why are you here? Don't get me wrong, I am happy to see you again. However, I know you and I know you have a plan." I ask the frizzy haired woman. We are still in the foyer with Hermione and me sitting at the edge of the sweeping marble staircase with the once-upon-a-time crimson runner, which I had changed to green in a passionate fit of anger. I had come to abhor the color crimson and the word Gryffindor. Gryffindor meant so many painful things to me, from my idiocy to the betrayal of the Weasleys, especially Ginny and Ron.

"I was planning on your help researching." Hermione says closing her eyes and relaxing into my side.

"Researching what exactly?" I ask softly.

"Something like time travel. I want us to have a second chance to change everything." She whispers.

"And how do plan to research? The Weasleys took the Potter Libraries." I ask.

"I may have liberated the Potter libraries in addition to a few of the Ministry's contraband collections, including a number of Dark pureblood families' libraries, which they had stored in the Department of Mysteries. Kingsley hasn't reported it to anyone." Hermione says sheepishly.

I laugh softly. "You and your books," I say fondly.

"Yes, me and my books. However, I think we should start with unbinding you from the manor and removing any foreign substances, charms and potions, in you. Also, we need to make the house impenetrable to the Weasleys and the Ministry of Magic."

"What if Ginny or Molly comes to check up on me again?" I ask unhappily.

"I hadn't thought about that." Hermione says.

"How about we make the Weasleys think they came to see me, but they really didn't." I say.

"How do you propose we do that?" Hermione asks.

Biting my lower lip, I answer hesitantly, "When the Weasleys were clearing out the house of books, they didn't find a few textbooks on Basic Runes and Arithmancy. They were in the attic bedroom. I've been reviewing them, but they came pretty easily to me. Although, I don't have a wand… I've been altering a few low-level spells." Hermione's eyes widen in surprise.

"Harry, you know that spell alteration is an extremely difficult skill. I mean creating spells in much simpler. You need incredible creativity, knowledge, a skill in linguistics and brute power to alter a spell!" Hermione says.

"I didn't know that." I answer softly.

"Harry, how long have you been hiding your intelligence and why?" Hermione asks gnawing at her lip anxiously.

"I am sorry, Hermione, but the Dursleys beat me if I scored better than Dudley. Then Ron is an underachiever and a jealous prat. I swear that boy would laze about and eat all day if he could." I murmur softly, hesitantly.

"Fucking Ron Weasley," Hermione snarled, before visibly calming herself, "Harry, be yourself with me. You don't need to hide anything from me. I promise I will think things over before I make a decision." I nod slightly. "Now explain the spell to me."

"It's an amalgamation of the Fidelus Charm and the Muggle's repulsion charm, the Notice-Me-Not charm. You know the charm which makes Muggles think they are needed somewhere else. However, I finetuned the Notice-Me-Not to affect Wizards and Witches, but instead of making think they've left on the stove or forgot to shut the garage, it influences their thoughts and emotions. For example, if Ginny needed to see me to force a bank signature, she would be compelled to choose an alternative means to get a bank signature – like forgery. Or if she wanted me to father another child, she'd find someone else to do it. It both hides me and directs attention to other people. Only a Master Occlumens would become suspicious."

"That's ingenious!" Hermione praises me. "Now, we also need to protect the manor while we work. Any ideas?"

"The Fidelus of course and some serious antitracking charms, but Hermione I don't have my wand."

"You mean this," she says offering me the Death Stick.

"Hermione, this is the elder wand…" I say cautiously.

"I know. The Weasleys destroyed your holly wand, but the Elder Wand was in Dumbledore's coffin."

I chewed my lip for a moment, "Okay, you graverobber. I'll use it, but only because beggars can't be choosers." She snorts in amusement. I smile back at her hesitantly. I take the wand into my hands. It feels like coming home.

* * *

He hadn't heard from his best friend, Draco, for the last year. Blaise flipped through the reports on his massive redwood desk, a strand of his dark hair falling into his eyes. His quill flew over the heavy stack of parchment as he carefully reviewed the paperwork. He had read about Draco and Scorpius's imprisonment and cursed the gleeful face of Ronald Weasley. The redhaired bastard was the arresting officer. The same redhead had watched Narcissa Malfoy commit suicide and had laughed. Of course, the story was told to him through a dark-faction Auror sympathizer and not from the Daily Prophet. The Daily Prophet was firmly under the light-faction's control. Blaise rests his head in his hands. He felt like a failure of a friend, not being there for Draco.

Blaise had been clever. As soon as the light side had won the war, he had moved to Italy. His father's family, the Zabini family, were Italian citizens and Blaise capitalized on that. Blaise and his family had been working an underground ring to help the British dark-faction escape false charges and unlawful imprisonment. The British had warrants out for his arrest, but the Italian magical government would not hand him over. Although, the made no moves against Britain, Italy was quick to support his endeavors passively. The would not prosecute British refugees and they would not deport them back to Britain. The Italian Magical Government didn't precisely do the heavy lifting – arranging escape routes, food, safe houses, medical treatment, and funds – but their passive help was welcomed. Unfortunately, Blaise couldn't free those trapped in Azkaban. The prison was too heavily monitored. So, Draco and Scorpius were beyond his considerable reach. He felt sick imagining the horrors Draco and Scorpius were suffering.

"Signore Zabini," calls one of his informants, "We have the Selwyn family." Blaise turns to his compatriot, Signore Ellington, originally of Britain. The man is tall and broad shouldered with dark-brown hair and kohl-lined golden-brown eyes framed by long eyelashes. He is dressed like a former snatcher since he was once one. Of course, he had used a different name back then. He wears a black leather jacket with an outrageous amount of buckles and a red-silk tunic with black leather pants, he paints a stunning, if troubling, bad boy image. They are all bad men, after all, doing the right thing in a world without justice or tolerance.

* * *

Hermione and I had left the foyer for the Potter wards room. We took the steep basements steps two at a time. The wards room glows an ominous black-red in the gloom of the windowless subterranean stone room. The warding room is situated in the bowels of the manor. The wards themselves stand as massive black-marble obelisks in the chamber. They are carved with innumerable runes. However, currently they are stained with my blood, making them look more like a sacrificial altar than a means of protection.

The obelisks rest on an island in the midst of dark chilly water. Using my wand, I ignite the glass scones which illuminate the room with blue flames. I grip Hermione's hand carefully as I step out over the water. A flat slate slab levitates out of the water, supporting my way over the water to the island. Hermione is brought along, despite not being of Potter blood, through our entwined hands. As I reach the center, the obelisk surrounding me. A shadow lengthens becoming a shadowy manacle and chain around my ankle. Hermione stares at the shackle in shock. "Fucking bitches," she swears, hovering over the black manacle on my ankle. "They bound your magic to the house. They turned the wards against you."

"I know," I whisper, "Any thoughts on how to unbind me and have me remaster the wards?"

Hermione draws her wand. She quickly blasts a hole through one of the obelisks. The chamber shakes. "We destroy them first and then remake them." She instructs me, "Prepare your charm quickly. We need to do this before they realize anything is wrong." I quickly begin etching out the runes in air, prepared to brand them into the stone, which Hermione will create. Hermione pulls out a second wand, to my shock, and as she blasts the old wards to pieces, she uses her other wand to reconstruct new ones. The new obelisks are made of shungite stone and black obsidian carefully blended with black tourmaline stone. The obelisks are encrusted with malachite, bloodstone, garnet, citrine, and jade, which were held in place by silver shaped into blossoming water lilies, foxglove and azaleas on tiny vines. As the last Obelisk sprouts from the waters, I release the long line of runes I have created onto the stones.

The ward room shudders as my wards take, for a moment I worry that the room will crumble beneath the strain of the potent magic. The room quick settles and the wards blossom over the manor and the hidden valley. I feel them settle in my core. The new wards banish the sinister purposes of the old wards. The slowly fading shackle on my ankle abruptly shatters.

"Hermione how long will your conjured stone last?" I ask, worriedly.

"Harry, I dabbled in alchemy. Those stones aren't conjured, they were recreated." I look at her in surprise, she smiles smugly, "You weren't the only one dabbling in a new magic, during all these years."

* * *

Her memories of the Weasley family haunted her. She was certain that her former husband, William, had no knowledge of his family's duplicity, but she couldn't be certain. It was because of this uncertainty that she divorced him and fled back to France, before the papers were signed. She had remarried, becoming Madame Fleur Beaufort nee Delacour. She and her husband, Clarence Beaufort, were well matched by her father. They had conceived five little ones, where she and Bill had none. Fleur was a happy Mama of three little boys and two girls. Her children were cherished and spoiled equally in their home.

However, those memories still featured in her nightmares. The Weasley matriarch and her youngest son and only daughter, had been planning on declaring her marriage to Bill as illegitimate because of her creature blood. They had then prepared to use her a bloody broodmare for their family. They had been whispering about it, in her very own kitchen in Shell Cottage, while she went to fetch something from the attic. Ronald's lewd comments and sexual-insinuations about her body and their potential offspring had horrified her. Recent legislations passed would have allowed for this if they could prove that she had used her "dark creature magic" to control Bill. While, she had never used her allure on Bill, the Weasley matriarch's testimony would be held higher than her own claims. Truth serum was no longer permissible for use in the courts, that was the first amendment passed under the Weasley family's name. Additionally, the recent legislations passed in Britain were making it rather difficult for those with creature bloods to survive in the country. They could barely feed themselves, let alone their families. If they attempted to flee from Britain and were caught in the act, they were immediately thrown into the Creature Camps, no trials necessary.

The camps were disgusting examples of human cruelty. They were comparable to the Nazi's camp, Auschwitz. They had even installed gas chambers for those who fought back or tried to escape. The men, women, and children mined precious metals and magical stones for the human populace, leaving their hands bloodied and mutilated by their work. The beautiful female hybrids were bred by powerful wizards to create a secondary-class worker, much like the Lost Generation of Aborigines in Australia. It was inhumane and disgusting.

Fleur feared that she could very well have been a breeder, lying on her back day in and day out as her belly swelled with unwanted life. Her children then forced into a menial class and worked like house elves. The girls, when old enough, also taken as breeders, for the humans. House elves were now considered dark creatures and were almost extinct. The menial class of those with creature bloods, had now replaced House elves. The very idea of the British breeding programs made her nauseated.

"Mama?" Claire laughs, toddling toward Fleur in the family's atrium. Fleur laughs scooping up the toddler in her arms.

Yes, she was glad she had left Britain behind her.

* * *

Bill was lost, in a metaphorical sense. He had no purpose, no drive and no interest. His work with the British Goblins had ended when the Wizarding World's former bankers were rounded up and placed in the Creature Camps. Many goblins died in the procedure. They were tortured and mutilated by zealous Auror for entertainment. All of this, all of these injustices had been committed under the Potter-Weasley name. At first, he believed that these atrocities were commit by Potter. That the Weasley name was just attached to the deed for more political reasons. He remembered with anger, sneaking into his sister's and her husbands' bedroom, wand prepared to strike down the man responsible for dragging the Weasley name through the mud. He had been hidden under an invisibility cloak. They'd been fucking, but then the man he thought as his brother-in-law was pushed off the bed by Ginny.

"I hate it when you look like him." Ginny snarls "If I am fucking you, I want to fuck you and not him."

"I have to help Ron train the new Aurors," Potter says calmly, "In about thirty minutes."

"I'll get you off the hook with Ron," Ginny says. "Now change back and fuck me, but don't lay anything in me." Potter's features begin to melt away revealing a stunning creature. He has pale skin, the color and texture of dogwood tree bark. His eyes are a luminous green and take up more than half his face, which is not anatomically correct for a human. He is tall, taller than Potter, taller than Ron and still taller than Bill, with considerably broad shoulders. His lips are the color of poisonous berries and his nose is small. His fingers are long and slender. Instead of wiry and dark body hair or messy ebony locks, he has snowy-white dandelion-fluff. Hanging between his legs is the biggest cock, Bill has ever seen. Bill quickly tears his eyes away from the creature's bits. Ginny spread her legs in whorish fashion, making Bill mentally gag. The creature quickly mounts her. "You're a better fuck than Potter." She moans as he thrusts in powerfully. "Good thing we did away with him."

Bill always feels sick after remembering his sister's words. Harry James Potter is dead, killed to further the Weasley agenda. The only Weasleys, who Bill is involved with now are Charlie and George. Percy and Fred are dead. Their father is not entirely sane anymore and their mother is certifiably batty. Bill doesn't consider Ron or Ginny his siblings. Bill cannot find a future for himself, even after having escaped to Romania to live with Charlie. Bill only finds peace at the bottom of a fire whiskey bottle.

* * *

After recreating the wards, and naming me as the secret keeper, Hermione and I each select a room and settle in for the night. I chose the smallest bedroom in the house, namely because if I wake disoriented it will allow me to realize that something is different than the many nights before. I usually sleep in the master bedroom, but I feel vulnerable and disgusted with the memories associated with the room now. I stare at the ceiling of the smallest bedroom, which reflects the stars above Potter manor, as I think about the next step. My thoughts are jumbled and disjointed as I finally succumb to sleep.

I wake with a start. The sun is shining through the old wooden shuttered, painted white, which replace the elegant curtains of the other rooms. I sigh, climbing out of full-sized bed and heading for the shower. I dig through the wardrobe for something to wear, conveniently forgetting that I have yet to move my clothes into this wardrobe. I stare for a moment at the neat line of brown lederhosen in the wardrobe. I snort at my idiocy before quietly making my way to the master bedroom to collect my belongings. Under the considerable pile of clothes and a few knickknacks, I return to my new bedroom. I quickly pick out an outfit and enter the small bathroom to shower and dress. The bathroom is small and is decorate with blue tile. There is not bath, but the shower cubicle is perfect and had three water nozzles. I shower quickly and dress.

I find Hermione in the kitchen. She's reading from a notebook filled with detailed notes. I recognize her handwriting in the notebook. "Good morning Hermione." I say pouring tea into two cups. She seems to have forgotten her own tea in favor of reviewing her notes. She jumps in surprise. Her wand is pointed at me and I smile at her in bemusement as she looks at me owlishly. "Oh, sorry Harry." She apologizes quickly tucking her wand away. I place the teacups down on the table before pulling out the chair and taking a seat. She smiles at me hesitantly as I head back into the kitchen to pull out some breakfast food. "So how are we going to manage getting food for the manor?" She asks aloud.

"The ice box is connected to grocer, I just altered the runes on it for protection when we altered the wards." I say.

"Oh, you really did think this over." Hermione says with a smile. "I'm so used to you pulling off those hairbrained schemes."

I smile softly, "Well, after everything was said and done, I realized I need to rely more on my Slytherin side."

She nods empathetically, "And my Ravenclaw side."

"So, what precisely are we planning to research?" I ask as I place breakfast on the table.

"Well, magical researchers claim the possibility of alternative universes." Hermione begins, "Now, through my research with both muggle science, magical and muggle theology, and magical theory I have discovered that alternative universes are created through the action and inaction of key individuals that splits alternative universes into existence. For example, in one universe Albus Dumbledore joined Grindelwald opposed to capturing him. That changes the entire timeline."

"So, you want to travel to an alternative universe?" I ask carefully.

"No, I want to create one." Hermione says.

* * *

Luna Lovegood studies the creature who has replaced her brother in all, but blood, from behind an older issue of the Quibbler. To her eyes, the façade of "Harry Potter" melts away revealing the true form of the Leshy and Dryad subspecies. She had promised Hermione to keep an eye out on the false Potter and the deplorable redheaded menaces. She knows she makes the creature twitchy, she takes perverse pleasure in doing so. The false Potter drops his load of coffee all over the redhead traitor as the elevator closes. She knows they will get into a massive row, per usual when false Potter fumbles. "You know, as much as it amuses me, you need to stop doing that." The Minister, Minister Shacklebolt, says from behind her. "They're becoming suspicious."

Luna smiles up at Kingsley, "I imagine the Humperdincks are congregating as we speak."

Shacklebolt studies the blonde enigma for a long moment, "If they are congregating doesn't that put you in harm's way?"

"It won't be long now until the lightning bolt and the former beaver's plot takes hold, and everything will change. Excuse me, I have a scarlet female Humperdinck to annoy during lunch. It invited me for appearances in front of the paper prophet."

"Lunch with Ginny Potter-Weasley, good luck." Kingsley says after a moment.

* * *

 **Two months later** , I am seated in the Potter library, which is now overflowing with books. Hermione had divided them on subject, then by her own system she calls "Grade Level". I asked her what "Grade Level" meant and she had, blushingly, told me that she had recreated the Hogwarts education to fit a higher standard of education. She had never shared that information with the redhaired traitors, only Minerva. Headmistress Minerva McGonagall not only ran the school but fought tooth and nail against the Weasley-Potter policies. An example is a currently debated legislative bill, which would deny a wand to any student sorted into Slytherin. Minerva secretly worked alongside an underground group who assisted dark-inclined individuals and pureblood families to escape Britain. The majority escaped during their seventh year, transferring abroad. Minerva had the knowledge from Dumbledore's old paperwork to forge travel documents and passports. While, Minerva didn't know the identity of the Harry Potter imposter, she had her suspicions according to Hermione.

I am reading through Hermione's standard curriculum as quickly as I can. Due to my photographic memory, it is a quick and simple task. Hermione had hit me over the head with a heavy Runes textbook and cursed up a storm at Dumbledore and the Weasleys when I hesitantly revealed that they had bound my photographic memory. She was outraged. It is quite funny, how quickly we fell into a pattern of researching and studying. If anyone were in the manor with us, they'd say we'd developed our own language for researching. I was also making progress on my Muggle education, already studying for my A levels. We took breaks on Saturdays after performing the rite. Hermione has plied me with a mountain of books on Muggle and Magic theology. The Saturday rite reaffirmed our loyalty and devotion to our sworn deities.

Hermione, who was half-Greek through her mother, was sworn to the Greek Parthenon, specifically to Athena, Goddess of Wisdom and Military Victory, to Charon, the Ferrier of Souls, to Hecate, Goddess of Magic and Mysticism, to Erebus, the God of Shade, Shadow and Obscuring Darkness, to Artemis, the Virginal Goddess of the Wilderness and the Hunt, who reputed men, and to Nyx, the Goddess of Night. Hermione was not a Light Witch, not any longer. Not after what we had been through.

My mother's family originated from Ireland, while my father's family from Wales. I had chosen the Celtic Parthenon. My sworn deities were the Morrigan, the triple goddess represented by the maiden, the mother, and by the death crone. I was also sworn to Lugh, the God who knows all Arts, to Arawn, god of the Celtic otherworld and of terror, revenge and war, to Gwydion, the Magician and Warrior God, to Scathach, Goddess of Healing, Magic, fighting arts and prophecy, known as the Shadowy One, and to Don, Welsh goddess of the Heavens, the air and Sea and ruler of the Dead.

I had chosen my deities and pledged my devotion, and like Hermione, I received their blessings and claim in the form of tattoos across the soles of my feet and winding around my ankles. Hermione's tattoos were situated around her upper thighs and across her breasts – not that I needed to know that, albeit I was an idiot for asking something I later learned was private

Saturdays, after the rite, usually found us in the kitchen cooking and trading stories. We shared fond memories of our school years, shying away from the Weasleys and Dumbledore and their betrayals. We are progressing quickly on our plot to create an alternative timeline, although, I have been regulated to the Runes and Arithmancy portion of our research. Hermione challenges me to create a spell or alter an existing one, describing a result. I do not question her, knowing she will share it eventually. To this date, I have only failed to create one spell, which she challenged me to.

* * *

"Careful, Rubeus." Filius Flitwick instructs gently. He sighs as the enormous man slips on the outdoor stair. "Oh, Rubeus." Filius say slipping out to his assist the larger man. Filius finds the gentle half-giant sitting on a punctured pumpkin staring out across the horizon. The mountainous landscape is unfamiliar to him.

"Where am I?" Rubeus mumbles. "Professor, where are we?" He asks turning one eye on the old half-goblin. The other eye is clouded and unfocused. Filius sighs, placing his hand atop the man's head and running his hand through his hair soothingly.

"We're on holiday, Rubeus. We'll be home soon, you'll see." Filius lies. He doesn't have the heart to tell his former student that they will never be returning to Hogwarts, while the man is stuck in one of his fits. They had barely escaped Britain, after all. Rubeus had sacrificed his left eye and sanity to help Filius escape the creature camps. Filius had refused to abandon the gentle half-giant and now cared for the big man near the Austrian alps. Together, they minded a small dairy farm. Rubeus often thought he was still that eleven years old boy he once was. Filius believed it was Rubeus's mind's way of coping.

"Oh, that's good." Hagrid says and begins humming to himself, idly tying a long grass stem into knots with his dexterous fingers. He's still sitting on the poor pumpkin on the front lawn. Filius reenters the kitchen and using his new wand, begins preparing the crust for a pumpkin pie. They would make do, as they always did… even in the darkest of times.

* * *

When Bill had told him about what Ginny, Ronald and their Mother had done, Charlie hadn't wanted to believe it. Bill had cautioned him against confronting them, told him to be careful in seeking out his answers. Charlie had reluctantly done so. His big brother had lent him an invisibility cloak given to Bill by the goblins. Returning home to the Dragon Reserve after his misadventure, Charlie had puked all over the carpet in front of the floo.

However, unlike Bill, who was content to waste away, searching for peace at the bottom of a whiskey bottle, Charlie was determined to fight back. Charlie worked alongside Headmistress McGonagall to smuggle more than half of the former Slytherins to safety. The Dragon Reserve became a cover for sneaking families and children over the border into Romania. They would sneakily employ the Slytherin students and when their work visas expired, no one on the Dragon reserve reported it. Likeminded Hufflepuff students and Ravenclaw students joined in the effort, creating a massive front of employing from the Slytherin house and sneaking their employees to safety abroad. Gryffindor became a synonymous term for bigot and traitor to magic. Few Gryffindors fought to save the former Dark faction or newly discovered dark-inclined. Charlie would be later quoted as having said that "he'd rather die trying to save victims of this injustice than sitting at home doing nothing for them", in one memorable row with Bill. Bill was both proud of his brave, brave little brother, but he also mourned Charlie's impending death.

"Bill, we received a letter." Charlie called, "It's from Hermione. I recognize her handwriting." After having divorced Ron, Hermione had confided in them – she didn't believe that Harry was dead. Charlie kind of hoped he was, his sister and her children could be manipulative shits. The letter was addressed quite humorously making Charlie snort with laughter.

 **Charlie Dragon-tamer and Bill Wards-wright**

 **Dearest Brothers,**

I found him! He was being held prisoner in his Ancestral Manor, the wards and his own magic were used to imprison him. We've reversed the method and have created a means to protect ourselves. We are working on a plot to save everyone, but not as you might assume. It involves a rather complicated piece of magic, I am hesitant to call it time travel. He told me to tell you, "Blood does not make family, you can choose family too." He instructs me to say, "Charlie, don't get eaten by Dragons until you fulfil your promise to him." What did you promise him, you muscle head? I have never seen him blush this fucking much! He also tells me to inform Bill, "I am sorry for the pain you're experiencing. Life is not fair. You have your brothers still. You have two good legs, so get up. Start walking and don't mope around. I know you are Bill! Don't argue with me. Bill be true to yourself. Live freely for me, when I cannot - not after my name and face had been used to promote these injustices. Live, Bill and fly." I really don't know what he is referring too? I don't believe your broom fanatic like him and Charlie? Are you? I always thought you were the more sensible one!

 **With much Love,**

 **Your sister,**

 **Hermione**

"No, Hermione," Bill laughed as he read the letter over Charlie's shoulder, "I am an Owl Animagus."

"Since when?" Charlie asks, grinning as he turns to face his older brother. He hadn't heard his brother sound so alive for the last seven months. He hadn't heard his older brother laugh without hysterically crying for ten months. He wanted to go kiss Hermione and Harry now! Charlie could see his brother emerging from his agonizing cocoon with this letter. "And why didn't you tell me? How does Harry know?" Charlie ask pouting a little. Bill chuckles blushing a little.

"I'm an embarrassingly tiny owl. Harry surprised me, and I freaked out and pop, I was in my Animagus form."

"How did he freak you out?" Charlie asks, looking for blackmail.

"I was changing clothes, and he walked in a complimented my bum when he was half asleep. We were both so fucking embarrassed, but he was completely enamored with my Animagus form, kept trying to persuade me to be his Post owl and jump out a people when they got their mail." Charlie stared incredulously at Bill, before bursting out laughing. "Okay, spill what did you promise him that made him blush so much?" Bill asks grinning.

Charlie grimaces, "Err, I was drunk. Also, I fancied him quite a bit for a rather long time. So, before his wedding night, I was completely sloshed and offered to give him a good time. Promised him I'd be the best he had. He turned me down, since, well… he was getting married." Charlies swallowed uncomfortably, "I felt like such a berk the next morning, I couldn't face him. I left after the wedding and barely visited since." Charlie looked vaguely miserable.

"I imagine that Harry quite liked you too before Ginny got her claws in him. You have no idea how often I saw him admiring you bum and muscles. Poor lad was drooling, I swear." Bill said smiling softly. "Well, it's late. I am heading to bed. Can I shovel some dragon dung tomorrow? I think I need the work out."

"Yeah, sounds good. Hey, don't think you are getting off now showing me your owl form!" Charlie shouts after him.

* * *

 **Two Months Later.** The cool autumn breeze tugs at Hermione's notes and my research as we sit on the veranda. "So essentially our ritual is part muggle sciences, part ritualistic magic and part magical theology?" I ask dubiously, "Please explain it to me one more time." Hermione rolls her eyes, looking up at the sky through the glass roof of the garden veranda, as if seeking patience.

"To begin, imagine a tree, specifically the Celtic Tree of Life. Now the base, the trunk, was the original universe, but branches began to sprout branches and roots began to grow through every key individual's actions or inactions. Each new branch, each new twig is a division of a new universe, a different timeline."

"Okay, I am with you so far. This is based on the Yggdrasil Theory?" I ask.

"Yes! Okay, imagine the space between these branch, filled with powerful energies, a wall or barrier between timelines or alternative universes if you want. If everything is made of atoms, then so is this barrier. Now Ernest Rutherford worked to split an atom. He did so in 1917. However, we don't want to cause an explosion or in this case an implosion of the tree. That is where the Ritualistic Magic you created and an energy which I call Divine Energy comes into play. We use a sacrifice as a conductor of Divine Energy in the Ritual which you named "The Entreaty". The conductor, or the sacrifice will allow us to use the energy without being harmed Divine Magic. The Sacrifice with disintegrate in moments, containing the explosion in itself."

"What are we using as the sacrifice?" I ask carefully. She holds up several AA batteries.

"A muggle battery?" I deadpan.

"Not just a Muggle battery, it's been fed a magical current." Hermione says.

"Alright. How much longer until we do this? I mean we need a full moon for the ritual to activate."

"Five days." Hermione answers, smiling.

* * *

Ginny ran her hand over the swell of her belly. She was four months along and quite large. The healer said she was having twins, a little boy and a little girl. She smiled like the cat who had got the canary. Her hands slipped across her protruding belly as she thought of Harry pleading to see his kids. She took pleasure in his desperate and fear. Logically there was no reason to take pleasure in his anguish, he had never wronged her, but she'd grown up in poverty. She liked to strike at all those good for nothing purebloods and half-blood with their good breeding, wealth and large homes. Now, now she was the one with the wealth, the power and the prestige. She had everything she wanted. She loved to watch their jealousy and despair.

Her hand trails lower on her naked belly, just below the distention of her belly. Her fingers sink into her sex and she pleasured herself. Her memories turn to Harry pleasuring her in hopes of seeing his children, eyes filled with unshed tears. Children whom she had raised to hate him. A smirk curls the corner of her lips as she brushes her fingers firmly at her clitoris. She reaches her climax, head thrown back in a wanton moan, as she imagines Harry's desperation if he ever learned the truth.

* * *

We stood at opposite poles on the ritualistic circle painted in our blood on the floor of the Potter Manor basement. Magic whirls fiercely around us like a miniature tornado. Our voices resonate throughout the house as we chant. As the magic rushes in me and through me, the ceiling seems to open up into darkness. The darkness glows a daunting blue-black, eerie and yet compelling. Something changes and then… something unexpected happens, it becomes hard to breathe. As I am prepared to reach for the batteries to throw them from the circle and break the ritual. Hermione yells over the vacuum. "I am sorry Harry, but this is the only way." I turn horrified eyes on her as she raises a wicked dagger and plunges it downwards… into her own chest.

"NO! Hermione!" I scream heartbroken, reaching for her, but before my fingers touch her she dissolves into dust.

"I am sorry Harry, you need this. As strong as I pretend to be, I am truly broken." A golden figure says materializing behind me. I spin around, shocked and taking in her softly golden-glowing ethereal face. "I will always be with you!" She pressed a finger to my forehead, "I will always be your friend." And darkness consumed me.

* * *

 **To Be Continued**

Was the "Introduction" any good? Was it too rushed? Should I rewrite it?

What do you guys think about my creation - the Subspecies of Leshy and Dryad?

Any ideas for me to improve the story?

Any thing you desperately want to see in this story?

Hope you enjoyed! Please leave a Review on your Way Out!


	2. Chapter 2

**Once Upon a Time Turner**

 **Book One of the Memories of Ghosts Series**

 **Explicit Adult Content – Read at your Own discretion**

Created, Written and Illustrated by k505

Additional Illustrations by No One Currently – Looking for Artists

Edited and Proofread by No One Currently – Looking for Editors

* * *

 **(Full) Disclaimer:** I do not own JK Rowling's Magical World (The Harry Potter Series (books 1-7/Films 1-8), Quidditch throughout the Ages (book), The Tales of Beetle the Bard (book), the Cursed Child (script), Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them (film)) or the Labyrinth film. They belong to their creators and various publishers. No, money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. This fictional story is the product of my imagination and shared for entertainment purposes, not for profit.

 **Future Main Pairing(s):** Tom M. Riddle Jr./Lucius Malfoy/Severus Snape/Wyatt Ravenswood/Charles Urquhart/Antares Black (HP)

* * *

"Born not of my womb, but to my name and my blood, rise eth the Greatest Black Lord to ever be seen. Neither light nor dark, but gray. He will be raised on the knees of Twilight. Born to the cousin of Black blood, through the ancestral lines of Peverell and Gryffindor, and in womb of the hidden Grimm, born to Ravenclaw bloodline. Born of Death at hands of a Muggle Abuser. Recreated in spirit and by aura. Adopted by the former Lord Black, by my blood, and by the blood of the Lord Twilight. Again, and again this child shall fight for peace. Allied to Twilight and Nightfall, to the then heirs of Light and Dark, blessed by Daybreak, he will rise as the last bastion of both Dark and Light magics. Welcome, he does not by color of magic, but by intention and moral creed." ~ **Cassiopeia Black (1976)** (About Antares Black, to Arcturus Black, Melania McMillan, Orion Black and Walburga Black)

* * *

 **Chapter One:**

Altered Fate and Changes Foretold

Whispers wanting, always seeking

Something more than what they have

Churning darkness, ever seeping

Spilling into the world of Man

A soft touch, like the touch of a mother, wakes me. I stir, turning onto my side, before hitting the edge of my small cot and falling off. I breathe in dust and began to cough violently. The sound of the telly increases as Vernon turns up the volume. Through the blinding pain, I look around myself. I am back in the cupboard under the stairs. A few spiders skitter away from me. I sit up slowly, assessing my physical condition. I cringe when I felt along my left wrist – likely broken. My left ankle is swollen, and I feel a bruise of the left side of my jaw. I try to remember the point in my life when I had broken my wrist and sprained my ankle. Ah, Dudley had pushed me down the stairs when I was six-years-old, the Dursleys had kept me in the cupboard until the bruises fade before putting me back to work. It was early June 1986. The ring of the phone startles me.

The sound of footsteps which pass my cupboard are soft and light - Aunt Petunia. She picks up the phone on the third ring. "Hello, Dursley residence." She says in a nasally voice. "Yes, Miss Figgs, this is Petunia. Oh, you won a trip to Madrid, Spain, congratulations!" She says, her tone of voice tells me that she is anything but happy, "You can't take the boy this summer? What about our Seaside Holiday in late June? Find someone else? When will you be leaving? In three days! Alright, I understand. Have a good Holiday." Petunia concludes.

I don't remember Ms. Figgs taking a Holiday during any Summer, while I was growing up. "That damn bitch," Petunia swore. She kicks the door of my cupboard spitefully as she passes, causing me to jump. "Vernon, Miss Figgs won a vacation to Madrid. She can't take the freak in at any point this summer."

"What!?" Vernon asks incredulously, "But we have our yearly Seaside Holiday in late June for Dudley!"

"She told us to find someone else." Petunia says scoffing.

"What about your friend Yvonne?" Vernon asks quickly.

"She's on Holiday in Italy, visiting her distant cousin." Petunia says.

"Well, we could always drop him off at an Orphanage?" Vernon says. "We've never wanted him."

"Too much paperwork and we would stop receiving the money from that Potter's account." Petunia says dismissively.

"We could just leave him in the shed." Vernon offers.

"What would the neighbors say if they saw him?" Petunia asks, horrified.

"Well, he could stay in the shed." Vernon says. "I mean a broken leg would be enough persuasion to stay in there."

"Possibly," Petunia says.

I never remember the Dursleys being this cold and cruel. Would they really leave me in the tiny garden shed with a broken leg? I wonder. A plan began to form in my mind. Harry Potter needed to disappear. What better timing than when Ms. Figgs left?

Four days pass in a blur of activity. I mostly spend most the time trying not to aggravate my wrist as I tend to the garden under Aunt Petunia's watchful eyes. I was given a number of chores over those four days, which were physically impossible with my wrist and ankle. When I couldn't complete them, Petunia takes great pleasure in denying me food, while Vernon lashes me with his belt. My back is tender and bruised. There are welts and there are thin lines of blood. Petunia has me clean up the blood drops on the floor by moping the kitchen floor with bleach. Her means of disinfecting my bloodied back is to pour the remaining bleach down it. I bite through my lip stifling my screams. On the fourth night, Vernon throws me into the cupboard and locked the door. In the darkness of my cupboard, I finally prepare to leave. Some time has passed since the Dursleys had gone to bed. Vernon's snores reverberate through the house, accompanied by Dudley's sleepy rumbling.

I gather my magic and trace runes into the air. They glow like the fire which Voldemort had used to reveal his birth name to me in the Chamber of Secrets. However, my fire glowed a deep gold-white opposed to Voldemort's golden-scarlet, my lips twitch at the irony. The runes sink into the door of the cupboard, unlocking it. Runic magic couldn't be traced by the Ministry, or by Dumbledore, when it went unused by a wand or not carved into an object. It is one of the few things I can do wandlessly right now, Hermione and I had worked to expand my wandless magic capabilities. This is as far we had gotten. I step out of the cupboard and immediately relock the door to my personal prison, the cupboard under the stairs. I slip out of the house and into the dark, summer night. I make my way to the train station, the trains are still running, but this one will be the last one tonight. The spell I have already written out in runes, takes affect the moment the train doors open. Its occupants ignore me.

It takes three trains for me to reach Charring Cross and an hour to walk to the Leaky Cauldron on foot. By the time I reach the Leaky Cauldron I am covered in sweat and feeling quite faint. I recast the spell and twist it to affect the wizards and witches in the pub and slip through the door. Several patrons of the pub look up, along with the barkeep, Tom, when the door swings open. However, they quickly turn away when my spell triggers the reaction. I make my way to the back of the bar unimpeded. I tap the three bricks over the trash bin and the archway opens in its usual dramatic fashion. I release the runic-spell, but I keep my head down as to not draw attention and make my way to Gringotts quickly. The white marble building looms in the gloom of the late night. The doors are still open, Gringotts never sleeps. I make my way up the steps and into the cavernous entrance hall. The teller's booths are mostly emptied at this late hour, but there are three goblins at their stations. There are no other customers. They look up in surprise at my entrance. I stagger forward, my blood loss is making my head spin. "I am requesting Sanctuary," I whisper-shout before fainting, falling. Warm arms catch me before I hit the ground. Then darkness.

* * *

 **June 14, 1986 – 7:31 am**

 **Malfoy Chateau**

 **Blaenau Ffestiniog, Wales**

Near the village of Blaenau Ffestiniog, Wales, in a hidden valley, stands Malfoy Chateau. The Malfoy Chateau is fashioned after the Chateau de Chenonceau and is situated over a small stream with rocky bed. Albino Peacocks populated the weather-controlled land. Flowering vines and gardens bloom even in the dead of winter. Goldfinches flock to the black poplar trees along the riverbank. A sulk of fox kits frolics in a small forest-meadow of tall grasses. Cicadas thrum and frogs croak in the early morning.

The children of the Malfoy bloodline were all well versed in the arts of deception. Their ancestors had been spies for the French crown, after all. So, when Draco Malfoy and his twin brother, Scorpius Malfoy, were called to their Uncle's study, the six-year-old fraternal twins were prepared for a shock.

Uncle Claudius is their father's younger fraternal twin brother. Scorpius reaches the study door first and knocks on it softly, hesitantly, as Draco follows. "Come in," came the gentle voice of their Uncle Claudius. Scorpius hesitantly opens the door and is followed in by his older twin brother. Uncle Claudius's study is fashioned out of dark woods, towering bookcases, pale-green silk curtains over floor-to-ceiling windows and a plush forest-green carpet over the dark wood floor. Seated behind the massive four-footed desk is their Uncle. Uncle Claudius is a handsome man with shoulder-length silver-white blond hair and mercury eyes flecked with cobalt-blue specks. His eyes are framed by long eyelashes and thin expressive eyebrows. He is tall and broad-shouldered with thick corded muscles and a strong and square aristocratic visage. Seated alongside Claudius, behind a massive four-clawed desk, is their father, Lucius Malfoy.

Lucius has narrower and sharper features than his brother but shares the same square jaw as Claudius. Lucius's silver-white hair reaches just past his waist and is neatly trimmed and held back by a green ribbon. His long bangs frame his face, softening the chiseled high cheekbones and sharp nose. Lucius has full and soft petal-pink lips. He is tall and broad shouldered with thin wiry muscles. While Lucius's skin is snowy-white, his brother has a pale peach-and-cream complexion. Where Claudius has long and thick fingers, Lucius's has thin and delicate fingers like those of a skilled pianist.

On the furniture in front of the desk are Draco and Scorpius's older siblings. The twelve-years-old heir, Odysseus Malfoy, and his younger twin sister, Ophelia Malfoy, sit on the couch. There is, also, ten-years-old Oleander Malfoy, their second oldest brother, who is seated in an armchair. Their mother, Narcissa, lounges on the loveseat. The two empty seats are wing-backed chairs across from the desk. Draco and Scorpius take the open seats nervously.

"Draco, Scorpius," Claudius greets, "I believe it is time for Lucius and me, to tell you the family secrets." Lucius nods in agreement. The twins visibly straighten as Claudius begins. "Now, I will tell you a little about our history to establish a timeline. As you know, Lucius is my older twin brother. Lucius was born to our father, Abraxas Malfoy, and our mother, Celeste Malfoy nee Beaufort, on May 11, 1950 at precisely 11:55pm. Then I was born on May 12, 1950, only ten minutes later. It was immediately discovered at Lucius's birth that he has a prominent creature inheritance which would become evident on his seventeenth birthday. Our father feared for Lucius, because of the Ministry's interest in those who have Creature Inheritances. The Ministry was attempting to pass laws restricting Creature rights. So, father created a diabolical plot. I would be portrayed as the Heir to the Malfoy Lordship, while Lucius is truly the Lord Malfoy. Years went by, and Lucius and I went to Hogwarts. We played our roles meticulously, never alluding to whom Heir Malfoy was. Then we graduated from Hogwarts and the Ministry requested my allegiance as a presumed member of the Wizengamott. I was sworn to the Ministry through blackmail. They had put so much energy into gaining my allegiance, that they had forgotten my brother. Minister Fudge and Dolores Umbridge, then requested funds and I had the dubious fortune of informing them that my brother, Lord Malfoy, had sworn Allegiance to the Lord of Twilight. Umbridge was enraged and attempted to punished me, but ultimately she could do nothing." Claudius says.

"As you know, once an individual swear allegiance to a Lord or Lady, whether it be the Lord of Darkness, the Lord of Light, the Lord of Twilight, the Lady of Daybreak or the Lord of Nightfall, they cannot be forced to change allegiances." Lucius interrupts.

"So, Lucius and the Malfoy name are protected. I became a spy in the Ministry's Unspeakable Department. However, Lucius and I belatedly realized that if either of us died the Malfoy bloodline would end. Lucius cannot conceive with anyone other than his mates. So, I married your lovely mother and conceived with her each of you. Lucius pretends to be your father for your protection from the Ministry."

"To protect our secrets, you both will be trained by Severus in Occlumency, beginning immediately." Lucius says softly.

"I have also arranged for additional tutors." Claudius offers.

"Yes, father," Scorpius and Draco chorus hesitantly. Claudius beams at them and it's like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. Their father's smile is radiant. It makes Draco and Scorpius longing to see it again and bask in it.

* * *

I wake slowly, steadily. My left wrist does not throb with pain and I can rotate my left ankle without any problems. The pain in my back is muted, distant. Someone's arms cradle me to their chest, holding me gently as if I were something precious. I slowly open my eyes and glance up at the face of the person holding me. He is a stunning man, no, I decide noting his pointed ears, he is a stunning sidhe. Pale-gold hair frames his face in a feathery mess of spikes. His face is composed of sharp angles and is entirely too catlike to be human. His catlike eyes are a smoky-gray-blue flecked with silver specks like constellations in the night sky. He has pale-gold skin, as flawless as newly fallen snow. He carries himself with a refined elegance which is reflected in his clothes. Thin, but sensual lips quirk into a smile at my inspection. "Hello little one, I am King Jareth, Sidhe King of the Goblins." He says, I struggle to stand to bow to him, but he tightens his grip, "Not, yet little one, you're still too weak." I sigh, grumbling below my breath and accidentally nuzzle his chest. He chuckles when I blush mortified by what I had done. "Peace, little one. Now you claim sanctuary from the Goblins, but before I grant it to you I need two things. I need your name and to officially identify you via a blood test."

I sigh, "My name is Harry Potter." He hums thoughtfully, not quite believing my claims.

"And why do you need sanctuary?" He asks.

"I live with my mother's squib sister, Petunia Dursley nee Evans, and her family. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon hate magic and anything they consider abnormal and because of that they hate me. I have lived with them since the night after my parents were killed. They barely feed me, my bedroom in the small cupboard under the stairs, Dudley, their son, likes to push me around, while Uncle Vernon beats me. They are leaving for vacation in a few weeks. They are planning to break my leg and chain me to the shed for two weeks while they are gone. I saw Uncle Vernon purchasing an inverted spiked dog collar. I honestly don't think I would survive it." I answer burying my face into his chest. "If I went to anyone else, they would contact Dumbledore and I would be returned to the Dursleys house." King Jareth is pale, his eyes glimmer with rage.

"We will do the blood test, while I draft a Sanctuary contract with you. The truth spell I have been using has only indicated that you were speaking the truth and only the truth. You do believe yourself Harry Potter and I am inclined to believe it. We have been visited by another child posing as Harry Potter and my employees have been tricked into allowing him and Albus Dumbledore into your accounts. We will be retrieving everything which belongs to you. However, we need the blood test first."

The blood test is done with little difficulty. The attending Goblin pricks my finger and allow my blood to fall on special parchment. The words flow from my blood creating my personal information. The information comes as a shock to me.

 **Hadrian Jamison Taliesin Cassius Antares Orion Potter-Black-Grimm**

"Harry James Potter"

7.31.1980 – d. ǀ **Gender:** Male

Pure-Blood, Magical, Potential Creature Inheritance

 **Test Dates:** 6.16.1986 (Current)

 **Father(s):**

James Fleamont Hadwyn Aquila Perseus Potter ǀ "James Potter" (b. 1960, d. 1981)

Sirius Orion Domitian Claudius Nigellas Black ǀ "Sirius Black" (b. 1959)

 **Mother(s):**

Lillian Anna-Marie Victoria Euphemia Marlene Grimm Potter ǀ "Lily Potter" (b. 1960, d. 1981)

 **Sibling(s):**

Unnamed Potter Male (c. 1981, d. 1981)

 **Living Relative(s)/Non-Magical:**

Petunia Anne Dursley nee Evans (b. 1956) (Maternal Adoptive Aunt) (Squib)

Dudley Vernon Dursley (b. 1980) (Maternal Adoptive Cousin) (Squib)

Vernon Victor Dursley (b. 1954) (Uncle-in-Law) (Muggle)

Oleander Indigo Evans (b. 1962) (Maternal Adoptive Uncle) (Squib)

Adele McKenzie Evans nee Mason (b. 1963) (Aunt-in-Law) (Squib)

Rose Adele Evans (b. 1982) (Maternal Adoptive Cousin) (Squib)

 **Living Relative(s)/Magical:**

Hyacinthus Andre Evans (b. 1985) (Maternal Adoptive Cousin) (Muggle-born Wizard)

Charlus Atticus Dante Thaddeus Henrik Potter ǀ "Charlus Potter" (b. 1912) (Paternal Great-Uncle)

Dorea Cassiopeia Cora Emmaline Victoria Black Potter ǀ "Dorea Potter" (b. 1920) (Aunt-in-Law)

Altair Claudius Clarke Magnus Nicolas Potter ǀ "Aquila Potter" (b. 1943) (Paternal 2nd Cousin)

Elizabeth Andrea Marie Catalina Daniela McKinnon Potter ǀ "Mrs. Eliza Potter" (b. 1947) (In-Law)

Serpens Orion Henrik Charlemagne Cassius Potter ǀ "Henrik Potter" (b. 1946) (Paternal 2nd Cousin)

Joshua Atticus Charles Henry Tomas Ryder Potter ǀ "Consort Joshua Potter" (b. 1950) (In-Law)

Ignatius Antares Tiberius Apollo Cygnus Potter ǀ "Ignatius Potter" (b. 1949) (Paternal 2nd Cousin)

Cyrus Claudius Aiden Andreu Paul Potter ǀ "Cyrus Potter" (b. 1964) (Paternal 3rd Cousin)

Octavian Julien Ciro Magnus Nicolai Potter ǀ "Octavian Potter" (b. 1967) (Paternal 3rd Cousin)

Julius Mycale Andre Nicodemus Viktor Potter ǀ "Julius Potter" (b. 1969) (Paternal 3rd Cousin)

Julian Mikhail Aurelian Renato Cypress Potter ǀ "Julian Potter" (b. 1969) (Paternal 3rd Cousin)

Dianna Vivian Louisa Cornelia Serafina Potter ǀ "Dianna Potter" (b. 1972) (Paternal 3rd Cousin)

Collin Joseph Martin Alexander Serpens Potter ǀ "Collin Potter" (b. 1966) (Paternal 3rd Cousin)

Edward William Quentin Constantine Ben Potter ǀ "Edward Potter" (b. 1968) (Paternal 3rd Cousin)

Jonathan Elias Basil Samuel Ashton Potter ǀ "John Potter" (b. 1971) (Paternal 3rd Cousin)

Wilhelmina Lydia Bethany Xenia Nia Potter ǀ "Mina Potter" (b. 1973) (Paternal 3rd Cousin)

Samantha Eloise Harriette Caroline Ruby Potter ǀ "Samantha Potter" (b. 1975) (Paternal 3rd Cousin)

Lukas Addison Orlando Jensen Kent Potter ǀ "Luke Potter" (b. 1979) (Paternal 3rd Cousin)

Pollux Cygnus Proteus Aeolus Eurus Black ǀ "Pollux Black" (b. 1912) (Paternal Great-Grandfather)

Irma Leila Selene Jennifer Victoria Crabbe Black ǀ "Irma Black" (b. 1912) (Paternal Great-Grandmother)

Alphard Phineas Rigel Sirius Antioch Black ǀ "Alphard Black" (b. 1930) (Paternal Great-Uncle)

Cygnus Altair Pollux Phineas Rigel Black ǀ "Cygnus Black" (b. 1938) (Paternal Great-Uncle)

Druella Francesca Silvana Tia Natalie Rosier Black ǀ "Druella Black" (b. 1936) (Great Aunt-in-Law)

Bellatrix Violetta Druella Lyra Tia Black Lestrange ǀ "Bellatrix Lestrange" (b. 1951) (Maternal 2nd Cousin)

Andromeda Medea Silvana Merope Elianna Black Tonks ǀ "Andromeda Tonks" (b. 1953) (Maternal 2nd Cousin)

Narcissa Mira Helena Rhea Astrea Black ǀ "Narcissa Black" (b. 1955) (Maternal 2nd Cousin)

Claudius Tiberius Domitian Antonius Julio Malfoy ǀ "Claudius Malfoy" (b. 1952) (Cousin-in-Law)

Odysseus Arcturus Regulus Castor Ciaran Malfoy (b. 1974) (Maternal 3rd Cousin)

Ophelia Narcissa Bellatrix Mira Kiera Malfoy (b. 1974) (Maternal 3rd Cousin)

Oleander Claudius Pollux Serpens Daven Malfoy (b. 1976) (Maternal 3rd Cousin)

Draconis "Draco" Lucius Caelum Claudius Kieran Malfoy (b. 1980) (Maternal 3rd Cousin)

Scorpius Abraxas Altair Hadrian Dunstan Malfoy (b. 1980) (Maternal 3rd Cousin)

Nymphadora Andromeda Eloise Laura Georgina Tonks ǀ "Nymphadora Tonks" (b. 1973) (Maternal 3rd Cousin)

 **Godparent(s):**

Minerva Catia Aoife Addison Sandra McGonagall ǀ "Minerva McGonagall" (b. 1927)

Filius Wallace Bloodstone Dartmoor Aiden Flitwick ǀ "Filius Flitwick" (b. 1922)

Francis Edgar Alastair Augustus Richard Longbottom ǀ "Frank Longbottom" (b. 1959, d. 1981)

Alyson Vivien Penelope Eliza Katelyn Fawcett Longbottom ǀ "Alice Longbottom" (b. 1960, d. 1981)

 **Spouse(s)/Mate(s):**

Unknown

 **Child/Children:**

None Yet

 **Noble Title Inheritance(s):**

Heir Black, Lord Winterfell, Earl Potter, Marquis Gryffindor, Duke Le Fay, Duke Peverell – by blood

Marquis Ravenclaw, Marquis Briarwood and Marquis Grimm – by Magic

There are so many Potter alive. Why had no one taken me in? Why had they left me to rot on the Dursleys' doorstep? Something in my chest clenched painfully. "My mom was adopted?" I ask shying away from the knowledge that the Potter family had all abandoned me. I felt rather ill.

"Not many individuals know that Lillian Grimm was blood adopted by Rose Evans nee Ravenscroft. Petunia Evans is not the daughter of Harrison Evans though. Rose Evans, her mother, was originally a Squib of the Ravenscroft bloodline, named Celestine Ravenscroft. Petunia Dursley was sired by Celestine's older sister's betrothed, Aleksander Krum. When Celestine's father realized that his unwanted squib daughter was pregnant with the illegitimate child of his oldest daughter's betrothed and his close friend, Aleksander, they dueled which resulted in Alek's death. This also resulted in Lord Ravenscroft imprisonment and eventual suicide. Petunia's full name is Alana Petunia Ravenscroft-Krum. Your mother discovered this in 1980, when blood tests confirmed your parentage." The Goblin King says.

"Why would I need my parentage tested?" I ask gnawing on my lower lip.

"You were born with distinct features of the Grimm bloodline. Several weeks after your birth, James confronted Lily, convinced that she had slept around and that he had not sired you. Sirius, their husband, was torn between Lily and James. He told Lily about Gringotts' parentage confirmation ritual. She was so angry and tearful, I was told. She went to Gringotts and requested a parentage test for you. She learned about her history that same day. Apparently, her adoptive mother had brought her to Gringotts for a blood adoption for her protection. James apologized, but their marriage never recovered. They were planning to divorce when she discovered she was pregnant again." I close my eyes. This was painful for me to learn, but I suppose it was not without value. "Around this time James began seeing another woman, but then he died. This woman, Candance Greensborough, a half-blood, eventually married another man. I believe she petitioned for your guardianship, because James loved you so much, but she was denied."

Well at least someone cared even if they were misguided, I mused.

"If I have features from the Grimm bloodline, then why do I look so much like my father?" I ask softly.

"I believe there is a powerful blood glamor on your features. I am told that you had chestnut-brown hair with soft red highlights. Your skin was much paler, and your eyes were a blue-green." King Jareth informs me. I silently curse Albus Dumbledore. No doubt it was he who made me into a carbon copy of my father, with my mother's eyes.

"Did my father have blue eyes?" I ask.

"His eyes were such a dark-blue people had mistaken them for a dark-brown-black." The King admits, "Now tell me heir Potter, what do you want to do? We, Gringotts, cannot care for you indefinitely, but I imagine that you do not wish to return to your mother's adoptive sibling's care." I nod in agreement.

"I was hoping to find an individual willing to blood adopt me into their family under a false identity." I admit softly.

"That might be difficult." The King says, "I would suggest however that you look into your own bloodline for a family."

There's a knock on the door and for the first time I note, I am in a massive meeting room. "Come in," the King calls as I glance around me from the safety of King Jareth's arms. The hall is cavernous, with an arched ceiling decorated with a mural of a battlefield in gray, black and red. The unlit fireplace is made of white marble and the walls are of polished redwood. A long redwood table runs from one end of the room to the other. At one end of the table is the fireplace and at the other end is the massive doors. Pulled up to the table are black-leather winged back chairs. We are sitting closest to the door.

The door open and a goblin prostrates himself on the floor before his king, "My King, there is a Lord Arcturus Black, Lady Melania Black nee McMillan, a Lord Alessander Blythe, and a Cassiopeia Black here demanding an audience with yourself and our newest ward." The goblin says indicating me with a casual wave of his hand.

"Let them enter but warn them if any harm should befall our ward, Harry James Potter, from their intentions, then they will suffer the wrath of Gringotts and the Goblin King." King Jareth says.

The goblin nods frantically, eyes wide, and leaves to fetch their visitors. I turn my head into the King's shoulder and chew on my lip nervously. The King cradles me closer and nuzzle his shoulder instinctively. I silently curse my childlike impulses, but I do not deny that being held by another feels wonderful. I peek shyly at the door when I hear the footsteps outside the open door. Lord Arcturus Black is the first to enter with his beloved wife, Melania Black nee McMillan, on his arm.

Arcturus Black appears to be the spitting image of a much older Sirius Black III. For a moment I wonder if Arcturus Black had cloned himself to create Sirius, but then he is pureblood. No doubt, cloning is beneath him. His thick and painfully straight black hair was graying at the temples and his cobalt-blue eyes looked at King Jareth and I searchingly. He has a snowy-white complexion and aristocratic facial structure. His wife, Melania Black nee McMillan, has a round face, but is equally pale skinned. Her cheeks are rosy, and she has pale silver-gray eyes framed by ridiculously long eyelashes. Her curly hair is a pale golden-brown liberally streaked with white strands. Her lips are plump and a pale-pink. Both husband and wife are tall, but where Melania is slender, Arcturus has broad shoulders with heavy muscles.

Cassiopeia Black is immediately identifiable by her long pale-blond hair. All the females descending from Violetta Black nee Bulstrode have pale-blond hair like Narcissa Malfoy nee Black or a medium-brown like Walburga Black. She has pretty sapphire-violet eyes and is incredibly petite and slender, standing just below five foot-three. The dainty woman doesn't look a day over thirty-five-years-old. She shares the same skin tone as her cousin, Arcturus, and the delicate aristocratic features. Her lips are less plump than Melania's and her eyelashes shorter, but they were still long. Her pale coral-red lips are perfectly shaped into a cupid's bow.

The last individual, the stranger, is a stunningly handsome man. He has shoulder-length, rich strawberry-blond hair and pale turquoise eyes framed by long eyelashes. His is tall and broad shouldered with a lanky figure. He shares the snowy white skin of the Black family, so I believe he is a family member I did not know. The stranger's facial features are strong and squared. He is a striking man.

"Oh Merlin, he's adorable at this age!" Melania coos as I peek at her from King Jareth's arms. I blush and bury my face in King Jareth's shoulder. "King Jareth," she says curtsying, as Cassiopeia mimics her. Lord Black inclines his head as the stranger smiles softly at me and King Jareth.

"Lord of Twilight," King Jareth says, ignoring the others and turning towards the stranger, "What business do you have here." The King demands. I look at the stranger again. So, Hermione and my idea for the representations of Magic did appear in this timeline. Lord of Twilight would be the representation of Gray Magic. There was also Lord of Light, representation of Light Magic and the Lord of Darkness, the representation of the Dark Magic. Then there were the impartial-political balancers, Lord of Nightfall and Lord of Daybreak. Although I say Lord, they could be a Lady. The man smiles at me softly, fondly as I peak at him.

"I stand before you as Lord Blythe, not Lord of Twilight. You are holding my future blood heir in your arms."

"How is that you knew that Harry James Potter is here?" King Jareth asks cautiously.

"Because it has already happened." Lord Black says.

"I am in possession of an ancient relic which alters time to a point. I can send some back, a maximum of five years and six months. My heir, Antares Black-Blythe, appeared in my manor on December 21, five years ago. He told me a story and offered me proof. I eagerly accepted him. His biological mother, his surrogate is Miss Cassiopeia Black. He was also named the heir to the Black bloodline by Lord Black, since his former heir, Sirius Black, is in Azkaban and my lover, Regulus Black is dead."

"But, Sirius is innocent!" I exclaim.

"Yes, we know. We have business with both Gringotts and the Ministry in the following months, in order to clear his name." Lord Black says firmly. I give a soft sigh of relief, "But never the less, you are my heir."

"So, you adopted him in June of 1986, this month?" the King asks carefully, "Which method did you use?"

"We performed a full bodily adoption." Lord Blythe says.

"What is a full adoption?" I ask.

"Where a blood adoption would mask your identity as Harry Potter, unless a full bodily adoption is used you can still be identified by your magical core." Jareth says.

"What is the full bodily adoption process?" I ask cautiously

"A homunculus is created in the womb of your adopted mother by the seed of your adoptive father. The child is not naturally conceived, so it will be born stillborn, since it is lacking a soul. The fetus stays in gestation for four months before it is born. A blood sample is taken from the corpse and the adopted child goes through a full ritual to change their DNA structure and their magical core. However, before any adoption is performed you must be in relatively good health. I will have you completely healed by one of our healers." King Jareth says. "We should probably begin immediately, but first we must review the Potter accounts. Dumbledore dipped his sticky fingers into them." King Jareth concludes. Within seconds of giving this revelation, a Goblin knocks on the door.

"The paperwork for the Potter accounts." The little creature intones.

"Do you know what Dumbledore was doing with my fortune and Lordship?" I ask carefully, my body is taut with tension.

"Fortunately, yes," the King says pointing to the pile of documents. "To sum up Dumbledore's use of your funds he has given considerable sums of money to certain parties of interest. To a Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, he has given 9,019.32 pounds bimonthly. To a Mrs. Molly Weasley he gives 30,000.00 galleons monthly. To an Arabella Figgs he gives 8,000.00 pounds to monthly. To Dedalus Diggle, Elphias Doge and to Sturgis Podmore he gives each respectively 5,000 galleons monthly. The rest lines his pockets and he pay to grease various politician's hands. They are dispensed at the first of every month or second month. How do you wish to proceed? I must caution you that as soon as these payments have stopped Albus Dumbledore will be searching for you."

"Hmmm, he won't know if he receives Fey gold." I say softly, hesitantly. Fey gold, unlike Leprechaun gold, lasts as long as the creator wishes it to exist. King Jareth smirks and takes out a quill, ink pot and a journal as the others look on. "I would like the payments to be replaced with Fey gold hence forth for everyone. The payments will visibly end on October 31, 1988. I would also like the bank to place a fine on Mrs. Molly Weasley for the approximate amount of money she stole, however, her oldest children – Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred and George cannot give payments on her behalf from their personal vaults. Her husband is likewise banned from paying her debt. Please retrieve all the money from the other parties on October 31, 1989. Mrs. Weasley's repayment will also begin on October 31, 1989. I would like the Lordship ring returned to the bank at midnight on October 31, 1988. All of Mr. Dumbledore's votes as Lord Potter must be nullified at that point. Lily and James's public wills should be read on November 1, 1988 in an emergency Wizengamott session. The press must be in attendance. Their private wills should be dispensed on October 30, 1988 to any other named individuals in the will other than Dumbledore and the members of the Order of the Phoenix."

"Do you have a list of the members of this Order of the Phoenix?" Jareth asks thoughtfully.

"May I borrow a piece of parchment and quill?" I reply, Jareth hands me a piece of parchment and conjures as second quill. I list all living members of the Order of the Phoenix in black ink. I did exclude Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Frank Longbottom and Alice Longbottom as they would not be a threat to my plans. "Now, the rest of the private wills can be read in entirety on November 2, 1988. Additionally, I would request that each member be examined for compulsion and love potions and spells in private before they can receive their inheritances. If Mr. Weasley and his children are not listed in the Wills, request his presence at the bank later that week to be checked for potions and spells. Please exclude Molly Weasley. I am willing to pay for the tests and for the potions and spell-removal from their persons if there are any." I say firmly.

"That will not be necessary, Gringotts policy states that the use of compulsion and love potions and spells are illegal on the premises and our clients cannot use them. It is not often an enforced law, but in this case, we will use it." Jareth says. "No payment is required for the tests, although depending on the spells and potions used we may bill you for their removal."

"I will sign a statement to that effect." I agree, "Will I still be able to manage my accounts once I am adopted?" I wonder aloud. I hadn't thought of that.

"Only the account your father set up for you. The rest will revert to the new Potter Lord." Lord Blythe answers, "However, you will be happy to know that the potential new Lord Potter is not a fan of Albus Dumbledore or his policies."

"Who will potentially be the Potter Lord?" I ask.

"Charlus Potter, younger brother of Fleamont Potter. Fleamont is your grandfather." Arcturus says.

"You will have enough in your private account to fund the removal of potions and compulsion spells at Gringotts." Jareth says calmly, I sigh in relief. Then I worry that I won't have enough to fund my education at Hogwarts, I bite my lip.

"Harry," Lord Blythe says softly, "I know what you're thinking. Do not worry, I will provide for you as my heir. I am all too happy to be your Papa." Lord Blythe admits. Lord Black chuckles.

"If he had his way he'd spoil you rotten." Arcturus admits as Lord Blythe blushes. I stare incredulously at Lord Blythe, I had never known anyone to behavior so selflessly with a stranger. That is what I am, a proverbial stranger. Lord Blythe reaches out his long-fingered hand and pets my hair softly, I look up at him wide-eyed. I lean into his gentle touch instinctively. Something inside me breaks and tears begin to trickle down my cheeks. I never had anyone play with my hair or hug me as a child under the age of eleven. I had both happen to me today and I feel elated, but also exhausted from the emotional baggage I am weighed under. Could, Could I trust Lord Blythe to care for me? Could I trust their sincerity? Maybe, I have already begun to trust them since I don't usually let others touch me without permission. Perhaps it's my childlike body which instinctively accepts their soft affections. I do not know.

* * *

It is not until I am alone, tucked into a hospital bed at Gringotts, that I finally allow myself to contemplate the betrayals I have faced from the Dursley family, the Weasley family and from Ms. Figgs. I feel slightly ill. I should've known that Ms. Figgs was in on it. After all pureblood kneazles were expensive pets.

The idea that Mr. Weasley is under compulsion spells and love potions has always niggled at my mind as a possibility. This especially began to worry me in the future, when it became evident he was experiencing long-term spell-damage and potion-intoxication. Mrs. Weasley had blamed it on the war and depression. She told everyone he was receiving treatment. As an Auror, I was allowed to check on confidential hospital records of the accused. I may have slipped into Arthur's file. Arthur had been treated at St. Mungos for Nagini's bite in 1995. However, for thirty years before that date and twenty years after the date, he had never seen a healer. Mrs. Weasley had lied. There was something nefarious happening to Mr. Weasley and I mean to get to the bottom of it,

I roll onto my side. The goblin healer had worked rigorously to remove any identifying scars from my body at the Goblin King's insistence. The horcrux from the Dark Lord, Lord Marius Gaunt-Slytherin, also known to Gringotts as the attempted-usurper, was removed quickly and efficiently by a practicing Goblin exorcist. This made me both enraged and sick with sorrow. I hadn't needed to die to kill off the former Lord Voldemort, but Albus Dumbledore had planned for me to kick the bucket. No doubt, Dumbledore planned for my vaults to go to the Weasleys and his own children. Turns out the asshat, Dumbledore, had conceived and carried children with his victim, Gellert Grindelwald. Gellert had been a Dark Lord, this was irrefutable, but he was still the victim of his rapist, Albus Fucking Dumbledore. I was disgusted by the old man, the Machiavellian monster – the master puppeteer. I wonder if this is still accurate in this timeline.

I found it fascinating that Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr, the true heir of Slytherin had not become Lord Voldemort in this timeline. At my insistent questioning, King Jareth left me to read through a massive self-updating book on modern events, a rare tome, which defined by Magical kind, began in the early 1930s, instead of the recent ten years muggles refer to modern events. Tom Riddle Jr. was raised in Wool's orphanage from what I gathered, however, in 1935, when he was eight-years-old, he was adopted by Nicolas Flamel and his spouse, Perenelle Flamel. Briefly after the partial-blood adoption, Nicolas and Albus had a public row and never spoke again in public. Nicolas renamed Tom as Tommas Marvolo Nicolai Flamel-Slytherin. No doubt Dumbledore and Flamel fought over Tommas and the boy's Slytherin heritage. Albus Dumbledore was a prejudice man. I found it ironic that the man who prided himself on his lack of discrimination toward muggles and muggle-born witches and wizards was so prejudice towards Slytherins and those who had inherited blood from dark magic practitioners. It was hypocritical consider that the father of his children, Gellert Grindelwald, had been a dark lord. In the original timeline, not one of Dumbledore's children had claimed their father's name. the Dumbledore name died with Aberforth Dumbledore three years after the war.

Tommas had attended Hogwarts under Headmaster Dippet, where he was sorted into Slytherin. On Tommas's fifteenth birthday, Tommas was entitled the Lord of Darkness. Due to Deputy Headmaster Albus Dumbledore's, who is the Lord of Light, harassment of Tommas, Nicolas transferred Tommas to Durmstrang. There was a huge scandal and Headmaster Dippet had demoted Albus to the role of only Professor of Transfiguration. Unfortunately, a few years later Dippet died and Albus assumed the Headmaster of Hogwarts title.

However, the scandal didn't end there. A few years ago, Headmaster Dumbledore harassed a new student, a Ravenclaw first year… I pause reading the name, the name my new family had decided to name me. I was reading about myself?! It says that between the joint effort of the child's family - the Blacks and the Blythe-Trelawney families - the Lady of Daybreak, Rhiannon Lovegood, the Lord of Nightfall, Aquila Black, (I must look into him, I muse) and with the aid of the Board of Governors and the Head of the Auror Department, Ms. Amelia Bones, Headmaster Dumbledore was suspended. Nicolas Flamel was assigned to be the temporary headmaster. Albus Dumbledore had been suspended on October 1, 1983, during my would-be first year at Hogwarts. I only had to deal with him for a month, I thought with a relieved mental sigh.

I look over the changes Headmaster Flamel made to Hogwarts and I am greatly impressed. The core class subjects had been expanded and, in some cases, combined. HAP for example was Herbology, Astronomy and Potions combined into a singular subject. HAP was taught by three to five professors at a time, all masters in their areas of study. In fact, most of the core classes were shared by multiple professors. This included HAP, Magical and Mundane World History class (not taught by Binns!), Magical World Cultures and Magical World Religions Class, Muggle World Cultures and Muggle World Religions Class, Defense classes which also studied Warding and Battle Medicine (what the heck is battle medicine? I wonder.) in the course, and Magic Theory class. Only Latin class, Charms Class and Transfiguration class held only a single Professor.

Electives still included Care of Magical Creatures and Divination, but Muggle studies had been removed. No doubt everything in it, formerly, was covered in the new Magical and Muggle World History class and Muggle World Religion and Cultures class. Electives also contained Alchemy, which has a prerequisite to include Physics and Chemistry. Offense Magic was taught as an elective, which caused me some concern, but Offense Magic also taught Dueling and Dueling Wards. There was Enchanting class, Arithmancy and Runes had been combined with Spell Crafting to make another class. There was a Healing elective and a Flying elective – Flying as an elective? I wonder what that was about? There were also mandatory and non-mandatory seminars on Saturday mornings, but those were not listed in the book. Additional financial programs were introduced to students and their parents, who were stuck with a middle-class or low-income class salary. These financial solutions had increased the student class sizes.

In the financial solutions parents were given the option of taking out a loan from Gringotts and repaying it slowly. The other option, of the two solutions, was a smaller loan by the parents and their children would work in a summer work program beginning in their fourth year. The children would work on during the summer assisting in a number of potential occupations. It was called the "Summer Apprenticeship program". Not only did it cut down on the need for loans and repayment after they graduated, but it also introduced students to a variety of different occupations. I also allowed for networking. An additional stipend was given for students to purchase knickknacks, but it was encouraged to save the stipend to pay for their school uniforms and other materials for classes. The largest and most well-paying placement was in a small village near Hogsmeade, which raised crops and farm animals for Hogwarts. The small village, known as Knollwood, also harvested potions ingredients from plants in their exotic greenhouses.

Newly graduated students were recruited from Hogwarts into "Adventure Groups" which harvested ingredients for potions from around the world. This introduced students to a larger magical world and its diverse residents. The "Adventure Groups" employees lived primarily in Knollwood, but they also spend months at a time in exotic locations. The Goblin practically raided the outgoing employees and recruited these adventurous lad and ladies to their Curse Breaking program.

The magical world it seems had changed and adapted. My eyes slowly slid closed as the book sagged against my chest. I fell asleep hold the thick tome to my chest.

* * *

In a dark corner of Roppongi, Japan, in an abandoned subway station, darkness seeps. "Your turn Kenji-kun! Tell us a ghost story." Insists the only girl in the group of preteens. Pretty Suzuki Mayumi watches the shy newcomer, Yamato Kenji, eagerly. For telling ghosts stories in the dimly lit and creepy subway station, the group of eight children had donned Oni masks.

"Alright," Kenji says softly brushing a stray hair from the face of his mask. He tilts his head to one side like a lost puppy. "It begins like this…" The gate which they had pushed open a crack, to sneak into the subway station, abruptly slams shut. The kids let out high-pitched screams, but Kenji speaks regardless of their panic.

"Let's play a game,

First one to lose,

Loses their toes,

First one to leave,

Leaves without a nose,

First one to cry,

Loses an eye,

Last one to die,

Wins the prize,

In this game,

A game of death and gore,

I play the King,

You play the whore,

Let's play again,

For what is a game between friends?

Last one to call?

Last one gets all!"

"That's not funny, Kenji-kun. That's poem not a story. Did you get one of the older boys to lock us in here?!" Mayumi demands hotly. The boy tilts his head to the side. The other preteens look at him accusingly, some ripping their masks from their faces. They scowl at the masked boy, Kenji.

"I thought we were playing a game?" Kenji asks cocking his head to the side.

"We were telling stories, not playing a game Kenji-kun." Mayumi insists. Kenji stands, and the shadows seem to thicken.

"But isn't that how it always begins? We played a game too you know?"

"Who played a game with you?" Another boy asks boldly as the other children rattle the gate in their desperation calling for help. Mayumi took a step back in both worry and shock.

"There were seven of us too, seven kids and one man. One man who killed me, pushed me onto the subway tracks just as the train went by. I remember it, I remember it like it was yesterday."

"That not funny Kenji-kun!" Mayumi insists, pushing against his shoulder roughly. Her hand came back wet and sticky. In the gloom of the abandoned station she could barely see the color of her hand. Her hand is covered in red liquid - blood. She screams, high-pitched and terrified, falling over, she crab-walks backwards. Scrapped knee peeking out from under her skirt. The other preteens are a mess of screaming and crying as Kenji takes a step forward.

"Thant's enough." Someone snaps in the darkness of the abandoned train station, "Let the kids go, Oni-baka." A flame flickers into existence as their savior lit his cigarette calmly. The metal gate opens silently, the kids flee in panic. Mayumi casts one last terrified glance backwards in worry for their savior.

"You allowed my dinner to escape, priest." The disguised demon claims. An Oni like it, is the result of horrific tragedy, Tommas had no doubt that the story the child had shared with the others was true. Oni were created mainly from tragedy and more often than not from a child's tragedy. Tommas has to wonder how many of those seven kids died to create this twisted creature.

"Didn't your mother tell you not to play with your food? A big bad man, much like myself, might just steal them away." Tommas says taking a drag of his cigarette.

The Oni cocks his head in thought. "How strange, I don't remember," it says.

"Well that's too bad, but such is life. You tend to forget all the important lessons until it's too late."

"Never mind that, I am hungry. I suppose you will be dinner." The demon says growing in size, becoming a flesh lump of what appeared to be children sown together in a patchwork of bodies, thick black stitches held the lifeless bodies to one and other. The children's fleshy faces, contorted in pain and fear, was the most gruesome aspect of the Oni. The shadows lengthen, and the room is plunged into darkness. The Oni takes a rattling breath, frost climbs the stairs which lead outside of the station. You could've seen your break in the sudden cold, if it wasn't pitched black. The gate abruptly swings closed with a rattling finality.

"Sorry, to disappoint you." Tommas says in the gloom, "But I'm not a priest, I'm more of what you would call an Onmyōdō Mage and my professors call a Soul Summoner or even a Light Necromancer. Suffice to say, this won't be pretty." Comes Tommas's disembodied voice, echoing around the abandoned subway station eerily. A high-pitched and blood-curdling scream, then a gurgling sound like someone chocking on blood. The darkness diminishes and the frost fades.

"You're a curse man, Tommas Flamel-Slytherin."

"Always and forever." Was the deadly reply.

* * *

I wake cuddled into someone's arms. This, I think with a small pout, has become a reoccurring experience. I don't know why they keep cuddling me like a damned stuffed teddy, but I am not about to complain. My childlike body takes comfort in other's arms. Twisting around in my cocoon on blankets I see the slumber features of my soon-to-be papa. Alessander Blythe-Trelawney looks significantly younger, asleep. Alessander is a tall man with broad shoulders and thin, wiry muscles. He would be called coltish if he wasn't so graceful. His strawberry-blonde hair falls to his shoulders. He has turquoise eyes framed by long golden eyelashes. He has a square jaw with a cleft. He has high sculpted-cheekbones. His nose is aquiline, but not huge. His upper lip is thin, but his bottom lip is full and sensual. A little stubble dusts his jaw and his silver-rimed reading glasses rest on his head. I nuzzle his shoulder unconsciously and he begins to wake. "Good morning, Antares." Alessander or Les says softly. It was determined by all of us conspirators that I should practice addressing everyone by their titles and respond to my new names – Antares Cassius Raziel Cygnus Silas Black-Blythe-Trelawney, Antares Black for short.

"Good morning Papa," I greet softly. Les has agreed to be Papa, where James would've been Da.

"Well, today is the final ritual and you will official become Antares Black. The Homunculi was born this morning."

"Is Auntie Cassie okay?" I ask. Cassiopeia had requested I use Aunt as her title, considering that she was a surrogate-carrier for Lord Blythe and in conjuncture, Grandpa Arty and Grandma Mel. Cassie also declared herself, "not mother material," despite her evident adoration of me. I worried I wouldn't ever reach the fiercely intelligent woman's preconceived expectations of myself.

"She's fine Ana," he says shortening my name, much to my disgruntlement. It sounded like a girl's name! "Are you ready for your part." I nod firmly, I was all too ready to become Antares. I wanted Les and Cassie to be my parents already.

"That's fortunate," says another voice from the private hospital room door, "We're ready for both of you."

* * *

 **NOTES:**

 **One)** Yes, the scene with Tommas is relevant to the story - I hope you enjoyed it and was slightly spooked by it. I was inspired by the short anime called "Kakurenbo," not particularly horrifying, but I think it represents Asian legends perfectly, but I am not an expert on Asian culture - Ignore me. You can watch it on Youtube. It's not really bloody, so I recommend it to anyone thirteens years or older.

 **Two)** The mentions of Albus x Gellert, again necessary, no matter how disturbing. Their children will pop up later in the story. I do not like depicting non-consensual relationships, so that's as graphic as it gets.

Yes, I have a Beta - I became impatient and posted this before they could edit it. It will be replaced by an edited chapter in the future!

* * *

 **Okay my QUESTIONS - time!**

Reading this chapter what were some emotions you felt?

What was your favorite part?

What would you have changed?

Where can I improve?

What would you like to see happen in this story? - Not guaranteed it will happen tho.

 **Searching... Searching for another Fanfiction Writer** interested in working alongside me. I was hoping someone would be interested in expanding my universe with long one-shots. I would you give the writer and subject and parameters like "Magical Underground Railroad, from Filius's POV, feelings about his rescue and Hagrid's loss," or "Magical Underground Railroad, escape of the Selwyn family, Child or Mother's POV."

 **TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**Book One of the Memories of Ghosts Series**

 **Explicit Adult Content – Read at your Own discretion**

Created, Written and Illustrated by k505

 **(Full) Disclaimer:** I do not own JK Rowling's Magical World (The Harry Potter Series (books 1-7/Films 1-8), Quidditch throughout the Ages (book), The Tales of Beetle the Bard (book), the Cursed Child (script), Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them (film)) or the Labyrinth film. They belong to their creators and various publishers. No, money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. This fictional story is the product of my imagination and shared for entertainment purposes, not for profit.

* * *

 **Chapter Two:**

The Ancient Roots of History and the New Dawn's Golden Skies

Sidhe are uniquely gifted creatures, who remain untouched by time in the conventional sense. They are immortal and do not age physically beyond their majority, at the age of twenty-five. Their magic does not dwindle or grow with age. Their power remains at the same level throughout the entirety of their lives. As soon as King Jareth and the family of Antares Black-Blythe returns to their private rooms in Gringotts, for the night, the Sidhe King of the Goblins disappears deep into the bowels of Gringotts. An ornate ritual room is set up with a meticulousness, which would be daunting to most ritual practitioners.

At the center of the room, on a black-marble altar is a glass orb sitting on a silver-gray cushion ensconced in an ornate iron lattice work depicting thorny vines which supports the glass orb on the pillow. The Sidhe are intrinsically entwined with the elder deities, so when the timeline had been reset and fates of mortals recreated, they were aware of it. King Jareth, having met Antares, knew the child was god-touched. The tall silver doors swing shut behind the Goblin King. He removes a vial of what appears to be blood, the king waves his hand at the lattice work around the orb. The lattice work parts allowing him access to the orb.

Stepping forward and over the engraved ritual-array on the stone floor, King Jareth pours several drops of blood, Antares's blood, over the glass orb. He pricks his own finger, allowing several drops to join Antares's blood on the orb. The orb begins to glow golden, the light steadily increasing. Waving his hand, the King closes the lattice work and steps back over the ritual-array, just as a figure materializes over the orb. The figure is a woman with thick and slightly frizzy golden-brown hair. Her skin shines a mother-of-pearl, a common trait found among the oldest members of the elder deities. Her eyes are a luminous gold, so rich in color they seem to be made from the molten metal. She is dressed in a salmon-colored robe. She is ghostlike, almost entirely translucent, but her presence is nearly overwhelming. "Thank you for the warning about the unique knowledge and intelligence the boy has, Milady Hyacinth," King Jareth greets the deity, "The child is safe and has found family. However, I wonder about the interest the child has gained from you and your court?" The King asks.

"While my interest is none of your business," the deity, Hyacinth, says in in her dual-toned voice with its echoey quality, "I will satisfy your curiosity, but only this once, child." The goddess continues, "Before I was Hyacinth, Goddess of Wisdom and the Weaver of Mortal and Immortal Fates, I was a mortal and the true friend of Harry James. I was grievously wounded by our betrayers and was unwilling to live. I sacrificed myself to give Harry James a happier fate. The deities of my original timeline, my original realm, charged me with maintaining the new timeline, the new realm. I was thrust back to the beginning of this timeline. The beginning before King Arthur and his court, before the founding of Hogwarts and before the birth of the Sidhe. I have created and, in some cases, recreated the fates of all. Harry James is my friend, forever and always. He is my blessed one." Hyacinth concludes. "I am charging you and your court, with what happiness and safety you can give Antares Black from the Machiavellian monster, Dumbledore. Humans have free will and I cannot assign the man's destiny until his end. I can create an ending for him, his fate, but his path to that point is his own." She concludes.

"I will do what I can for Antares Black, he is a precious child." King Jareth says sincerely.

* * *

 **June 18, 1986.** The Horcrux behind my scar had been removed and I felt strangely lighter, unlike the last time. The goblins informed me that a killing curse would not have removed the soul shard correctly, leaving behind a lot of magic scarring on my magical core and in my mind. Another thing to hold Dumbledore accountable for. What had shocked to Goblins, my family and even King Jareth was my sudden ability to sense magical currents and magical ley lines.

Today was day we were doing the full blood adoption. The first step of the full-blood adoption process was to age the stillborn homunculi appropriately. The time device my Papa had in his Ancestral Manor could only turn back time by five years and six months. So, I would be unceremoniously dropped in December 21, 1981. However, my birthdate would be June 21, 1972. I needed to be nine years old, not my current six-years-old. So, they goblins had decided to alter the full-blood adoption ritual to age me to the exact age of the homunculi, which would be eight-nearly-nine-years-old. The process of prematurely aging the homunculi was a gruesome and I had skipped out on its full development. To my embarrassment and to my horror, it was necessary for the adoption ritual to be both washed by intended parents and dressed in a white linen shift.

I am tempted to drown myself in the large tub while Aunt Cassie and Papa gently lower me into the tub. I eyed the bathwater cautiously, as if it were a feral beast intent on devouring me. Aunt Cassie is fussing over my petite height and thin figure, the result of the Dursley's neglect. I am grateful that the goblin healers have removed my many scars otherwise I am sure Aunt Cassie would've murdered the Dursley family and taken several swings at the former Headmaster, Dumbledore. To give me a sense of privacy, papa had insisted on a bubble bath. Papa squeaks the rubber ducky at me tauntingly and I soak him with water in response. Papa blinked wide-eyed at me since I had used my wandless magic to shape and hurl much of the bathwater at him. Aunt Cassie has sunk to the tile floor laughing with tears streaming down her cheeks. Grasping his wand, Papa dries himself before grabbing the shampoo and pouring it on my head. I pout.

Pink-cheeked, scrubbed squeaky-clean and dried in the biggest and softest towel I have ever known, the white cotton shift is dropped over my head. I stick my arms in the sleeves, but it is too large. Papa laughs and shrinks the garment with his wand. I am picked up and carried again. This is becoming a reoccurring theme, I think sourly. My childlike body craves the soft touches of affection and I cannot help but give in to its demands. My thinly clothed bottom is placed on a marble altar. The King enters the room dressed scantily in an open white robe and golden-brown loincloth. My father blushes bright red. I smirk, I know where my father's interest lies now. Although, I must admit, myself, that the Goblin King is certainly well built and very handsome. "Are you ready Antares?" Jareth asks as he selects a paint brushes and a vial of blood from the selection which a Goblins offers him on a golden tray.

"Yes, sir." I squeak blushing as he sheds his robe, only dressed in his loincloth. My father gives me a knowing look and I kick him in his thigh in retaliation. The Goblin King has an ornate blue-green-black tattoo on his back in the form of dragonfly wings. They're otherworldly beautiful. He is also wearing delicate amulets, which I belatedly realize are meant to protect him from magical backlash. The amulets drip down his front to his belly button in long graceful chains of indigo sapphires, black tourmaline, green fluorite, Malachite and black-red bloodstone in carefully etched silver runic circles of vines and other natural flora and fauna. His pointed ears are adorned in graceful ear-cuffs. The loincloth (although I do not look long) is embroidered with golden runes. He is also wearing bands of gold shaped like the antlers of a stag on his upper arms. The stag's antlers are entwined with a mother-of-pearl lily and emerald gems, which bring tears to my eyes.

The Goblin King selects a brush made of goat hair and the handle is bamboo commonly used in sumi-e, Japanese ink paintings. He then bends over a selection of inks, all made of the darkest black which shifts to red as King Jareth holds them up into the light. My father is elbowed in the side by Aunt Cassie. "You're drooling." She says calmly as Alessander cradles his side.

"And you have very sharp and pointy elbows." Papa complains.

"Oh, what the better to jab you with." Aunt Cassie says, and I am forced to smother my giggles into my hands.

"Alright, Lord Blythe, Miss Black, please stand on the focal points of the ritual," Jareth says indicating two circles opposite each other on the ritual array. Standing before Antares, Jareth opens the jar of ink. "I selected the ink mixed with blood of two of the most innately magical species in the world." He removed another vial of blood from seemingly nowhere. "This is the blood of the aged homunculi. I am mixing it with the ink as well." He says popping the cork and pouring it into the now open jar of ink. He swirls the ink in the container. The shade of ink changes from a black-red to a turquoise with golden flecks. Dipping his brush on the jar, King Jareth vanishes the cotton shift on me. I blink before blushing fiercely. I am only in my birthday suit. Ignoring my naked figure, King Jareth gestures for me to lay flat with arms at my sides and my legs slightly spread. I do so reluctantly as I feel horribly exposed. The king begins painting strange symbols I do not recognize across my chest. "These are sigils," the King says noticing my curiosity, "I am using sigils of the Celtic otherworld for this ritual." I nod closing my eyes instinctively as the brush flies across my eyelids. I keep my eyes closed as the brush paints on my forehead, across my nose and cheekbones and down my chin. The last symbols are drawn around my marking from the deities whom I give homage to on my ankles and the soles of my feet. Summoned warm-air dries the ink onto my skin. "Now, Antares, I am going to cut both your thumbs and my own. Then we will start the ritual. It will hurt." I nod, but barely flinch as the knife cuts a paper-fine cut onto my thumbs. King Jareth drips his own blood on my forehead and on each of my eyes.

I hear the doors open to the chamber and tense with worry. "Hello Queen Titania and King Oberon of the Summer Court, Queen Mab of the Winter Court, Lord Gwyn ap Nudd of the Cŵn Annwn and Lady Rhiannon the Gatekeeper of Death, what business do you have here."

"We wish to stand witness," Lord Gwyn ap Nudd says, sounding like a hundred baying hounds, "to the blessed one's rebirth." With my eyes closed I am unable to the incredible sight of the five Sidhe, but from the emotions flowing off of Aunt Cassie and Papa, they are shocked and awed.

"Then stand witness, we will begin as soon as the doors are shut." The doors slam shut and the altar under me seems to rotate and light shines brightly in my magical senses. Then darkness and chanting began in a language I cannot discern. It is lyrical - light and airy – it's like windchimes in the breeze or the rush of water in a streambed. It's as if I am listening to something both unnervingly ancient and powerful, but also it is as if I have just opened my eyes to the world around me and I have been filled with childlike innocence once more. It's a beautiful sound. Then the changes begin, and I struggle to hold in my pained screams as my blood seems to boil in my veins and my bones crack and shift. My very hair follicles hurt. I finally cannot hold it in any longer, I scream. Darkness and oblivion took me once more.

* * *

 **June 21, 1986.** I wake up slowly, knowing today was the day I would be thrown into the past. A knot of unease tightens in my gut. I open my eyes and blink. There's a mountain of presents at the foot of my bed. I state stupidly at the pile until someone clears their throat. Looking up, I see Grandpa Arty, Grandma Mel, Aunt Cassie, Papa and King Jareth seated in the attached sitting room of my quarters in Gringotts. King Jareth is at the door. He's dressed in black slacks and a red-satin waistcoat with gold embroidery over a long sleeved white-collared shirt. A gold pocket watch on a chain is tucked into his pocket. He's not wearing any shoes, he's not wearing socks. I stare at his feet stupidly. "Good morning sleepyhead," Papa says from behind King Jareth. I pout, causing King Jareth of laugh at my expression. It's a rich laugh. He runs a hand through his pale gold hair.

"Good morning, Ana," King Jareth says, my pout increases, "I have had a goblin lay out the clothes for you this morning in the bathroom. Please shower quickly and change. Then you can open your gifts." I nod slipping off the massive bed backwards from under the covers. Ignoring the laughter at my hair, which, no doubt, looks a mess, I walk into the bathroom.

I pause in front of the mirror to stare at my decidedly foreign features. My hair is a rich gold color, the color of sun-ripened wheat, and it reaches my shoulders in feathery waves. My nose is slightly upturned and often likened to a button. My face is slender, with a sharp jaw and high cheekbones. I still have some baby fat clinging to my cheeks. My pale-pink lips are full and soft. I have snowy-white skin with a touch of golden-peach to my cheeks. My eyes are a pale blue-gray with navy-rims. My eyes are framed by long eyelashes and sculpted, darker eyebrows. I am very petite and slender for my age, but that couldn't be helped.

Huffing in annoying at my androgynous appearance, I turn away from the mirror. I strip and step into the shower. I shower quickly using both shampoo and conditioner on my hair, before scrubbing my body down with soap. Rinsing off, I step out of the shower and dry myself off with a soft towel, before eyeing the outfit left for me on the counter. With a sigh of resignation at being dressed like a child's doll, I pull on a pair of soft cotton boxers, the black slacks with their neat creases are next. I button the pants before pulling on the white-collared dress shirt. The white shirt has a mandarin collar with a single mother-of-pearl button to close it at the throat. The other buttons trail down (a little off-center) the right side of my chest. Over this, I wear a silver-gray waistcoat, which has a soft glow when it catches the light. I pull on a pair of black socks. I pause, picking up the black hair ribbon. I sigh, using a little wandless magic to dry my hair. I brush my hair back before tying it back with the ribbon. Some of my hair escapes the ribbon and frames my face. There is a knock on the bathroom door as I struggle to button the cuffs. "Yes?" I call out.

"Ana, I have a few things we forgot to give you before you went in to shower." Papa calls.

"Come in." I call. The door opens, and Papa enters. He's carrying several jewelry boxes. I visibly deflate at the sight of the boxes. Papa chuckles. Placing the boxes on the counter, he picks up one black velvet jewelry box. "Normally, the Most Ancient and Noble Houses, use an heirship ring," Papa begins, "But the Blythe bloodline uses a necklace." He opens the box revealing a beautiful piece of craftsmanship. It's a delicate and tiny silver Celtic knot with a sapphire hanging from the knot. It's on a silver chain. It's very pretty. Papa lifts it out of the box and places it around my throat. He secures it before muttering a Latin spell. The necklace tightens into a choker and the stone glows for only a moment. Then I tuck the necklace under my mandarin collar.

"You're also Heir Trelawney," Papa says pulling out another black velvet box, "However, like the Blythe bloodline, Trelawney doesn't wear a ring, they wear a tiny ear cuff." He says opening the box to display the white-gold ear cuff inscribed with three lines on tiny runes. A white-gold chain connects the ear cuff to an ear stuff with a clear aquamarine stone and three tiny, white-gold feather pendants. The feather pendants are barely bigger than the nail of an adult pinky finger and hangs barley two centimeters below my earlobe. "Can I pierce your ears, Ana?" Papa asks. I bite my lip and nod firmly.

Papa takes out his wand, there's a slight pressure, a sharp pain in my right ear, and Papa is slipping in the stud and ear cuff before I realize it. "I also bought you an additional ear stud, there's this odd muggle-born belief that which ear you have pierce determines your sexual preferences. So, I thought until you're older, we'd pierce both ears?" I nod, and he shows me another clear aquamarine stud. He pierces my ear and then slips on the earring. Another hastily muttered spell and both earrings glow slightly before turning to their natural luster. "You cannot take these off, don't worry they're spelled with their protection and yours in mind."

"Now, I also have a pair of cufflinks for you, from Grandma Mel." Papa says. The cufflinks are sapphires with white-gold settings with a single rune carved into them. He helps me put them on. "Grandpa Arty, has your heir ring in the other room." I nod with a small quirk to my lips. We exit the bathroom. Grandma Mel begins cooing over my adorableness causing Aunt Cassie to smother her laughter behind her hands and King Jareth to smile into his morning tea. Grandpa Arty and I share a commiserating look before he signals me over.

"Now, Antares," Arcturus says, "I would normally give you're the heirship ring, but I had completely forgotten that there was also an Heirship bracelet until one of our House Elves complained about a light from the Lords private vault in the house. Apparently, the bracelet was waiting around for a person such as yourself." He says regally, before pulling out a box from his robe pocket and presenting it to me. I open it and stared at the piece of jewelry in surprise. The thin band is made of black zirconium and red-gold with feathers carved into it. Set in the middle of the band is a single diamond with the Black's older house motto in rose-gold encircling it; "familiae semper, aliud potissimum (Google translate: Family Always, above all else)." I happily slip on the heirship bracelet. It snaps shut and glows softly for a moment before settling.

Before I can protest, Aunt Cassie scoops me up and settles me on her lap.

After breakfast is cleared, King Jareth floats over my packages. At my curious look the King stifles a snort, "Forgot it was your birthday today, didn't you?" I blush scarlet as the others coo over me. I pout displeased but take the first wrapped gift the king floats over to me. I cannot help how my body responds to my emotions, but I intend to work on it. The first package is wrapped in blue paper and bears the Gringotts crests and another unusual crest, Dragonfly wings, which I belatedly realize is from King Jareth.

"Thank you," I whisper. The King smiles at me as I slowly unwrap the package, which is roughly the size of my fist. It's a tiny wooden chest made of cherrywood, but in grows in size when unwrapped. The wood's natural rings are visible despite the wood stain. The chest if approximately five feet long and three feet wide. It is divided into three vertical parts, each with its own lid. Each lid is fastened with a copper-colored lock. The chest is four-footed. The wooden seams are covered in the same metal and inscribed with runes. I am able to identify all the runes as means of protection. The chest even has its own built-in ward. I stare uncomprehendingly at the beautiful piece of work. "Thank you." I say again smiling at King Jareth softly.

He returns my smile, "It's a goblin made chest, so you will need to add a little blood to the locks, for the locks to lock onto your magical signature. And, yes, pun intended." He says offering me a knife with a smile. I prick my thumb on the knife without question and smear floor on the individual locks. After a moment, the locks click open and the blood fades away. "You will need to set passwords on each lock before you go to Hogwarts. However, I would wait until your rite of transition in case you come into a rare language gift." I nod, mentally making a note to look into this Rite of Transition. "Now go on, open the compartments." I remove the padlock and open the lid to the immediate left. The first compartment looks like a deep square well, "That is the wardrobe compartment." Jareth says, tapping the interior sides of the trunk, several drawers spring open. "These are for your shoes, socks and undergarments." I nod. Jareth pushes the drawers closed before tapping the opposite side of the interior of the compartment. A long line of hangers appears next, "And your shirts, robes and coats." He taps the side again the hangers slide back into the wall cavity. He removes his hand. I shut the compartment, still in awe of the craftsmanship. "Next compartment," Jareth instructs.

The second compartment is filled with what appears to be several old fashioned library index-drawer, there are empty nameplates on each drawer. I open one drawer curiously and note the space inside the drawer has been altered to hold books the size of an encyclopedia. The books would slide in with the spines facing upwards. "Twenty books per drawer. I suggest you create your own organization system." I nod, counting thirty drawers which means the chest can hold six hundred books. I am amazed by the chest. "Last compartment," I shut the library compartment and open the last. The last compartment has sixteen cubbyholes. "Your potions compartment to store ingredients and extra cauldrons." I nod, stunned by the beautifully crafted gift. "Now, I know Dumbledore has been trying to get his hands on any and all goblin made materials, so I suggest you carry this on yourself at all times and use a secondary chest as a dummy chest." I nod quickly in agreement.

"Next gift," Grandpa Arcturus says handing a wrapped book. I open the wrapping carefully and stare in shock at the title, "That book is traditionally called the Black Grimoire, it contains all the secrets of the Black family magic and has detailed profiles of each of our members whether disowned or not. It can only be read by the Marquis Black and his or her heir, which means you." Tears gather in my eyes and I throw myself into Grandpa Arty's arms. This means, without a single doubt, he seems me as family or he would never give me such a priceless artifact. The other gifts are quickly unwrapped.

From Grandpa Arty, I received the Black Grimoire, a chess set and several books on strategy, the Black shares in the Daily Prophet, ownership of Black Estate in Wernigerode, Germany and the Black family workshops in the Berlin Clocktower Courts. The Berlin Clocktower courts were part an exclusive underground community building in Berlin which housed the shops and workshops of the most esteemed Masters, Adepts and Craftsman of various magical crafts. The Black family workshops were empty currently. The last three gifts were meant to be instruction tools in business and estate management.

From Grandma Mel, I received a pile of new wizard clothing and muggle clothing. Melania McMillan had gone out of her way to pick up clothing I was familiar with in the muggle world. I stuttered out a thank you, shocked by Grandma's insight and empathy. I also received Art supplies in the form of several sketchbooks and art materials. She also picked out from me a rare Encyclopedia set on Wards.

Aunt Cassie had selected for me, ten books belonging in the "A History of Magic Undivided series," which she claimed the collection of authors did their best to remain unbiased and covered many species perspectives. She also gave me a Self-Updating Encyclopedia set on European Runes and Sigils. I received five never ending leather bound journals, black ink, quills and a quill sharpening set. I was also given to other books from her, "Latin Roots: Magical Latin Explained" and "An Instruction on Silent Casting." I thanked her, tempted to beginning reading, but I hesitantly put the books aside.

From Papa, I received the Blythe Grimoire (more tears followed), a set of books on "Elemental Magic," and "Meditation and Movement." I also received a bracelet which prevent anyone from reading my mind until I mastered Occlumency. I was also given the management of the Blythe Estate in Manarola, Italy for the same purpose Grandpa Arty handed over the other estates.

Alongside the amazing chest, King Jareth also included a set of Goblin-forged Black tungsten Bowie knives and two black leather dimension sheaths meant to hide in my clothes and redirect attention from them. He also threw in three rare tomes – one on "Gobbledygook," "Goblins Craftsmanship Studies, A General Outline," and "A Self-Updating Encyclopedia Set of Sigils, Runes and Glyphs for the Celtic Ley lines." All rare and priceless.

There were ten packages left in the pile that were not sent from Grandpa Arty, Grandma Mel, Papa, Aunt Cassie or King Jareth and the Goblin Nation. After King Jareth and Grandpa Arty scanned the packages and found nothing harmful, I was instructed to open them. The first I put my hands on are three tied together. The top was a thin envelope, the second is obviously a book and the last was a crate which immediately made a disgruntled sound at me. I stared stupefied as the crate hissed at me again, forming words in my mind. "I don't want to be in a box, open it. Come on, let me out." The crate complained. In a daze, I discarded the smaller gifts and opened the crate. I was expecting a snake, what I got was definitely not a reptile.

About the size of a kitten was a snow leopard, a magical snow leopard if the magic flowing on the tiny creature was any indication. As the kitten stepped out of the crate, it grew in size until in dwarfed me and reached my terrified papa's chest. "Ana, get back quickly." My papa says pointing his wand at the leopard. I react immediately, throwing my arms around the leopard's neck.

"Don't hurt, Tyr!" I cried out as the massive leopard nuzzled my neck. King Jareth abruptly made a chocking noise before falling out of his chair giggling. Papa stared at him incomprehensively. Grandpa and Grandma stares as the giant cat begins cleaning his paw revealing sharp canine teeth.

"Only, you Ana, would have a familiar that big." King Jareth gasps between giggles. Papa lowers his wand slowly. "I imagine, your familiar can shrink in size?" I nod watching Tyr with awe.

The giant snow leopard sniffs and makes a hissing sound which translates to "Not that I want too. I am not as impressive when I am that tiny." I translate for my family and they stare at me in awe and surprise.

"A full familiar bond hasn't been in effect for sixty years." King Jareth informs me petting Tyr's head. The big cat sneezes, complaining about Sidhe magic.

"Sorry, we didn't recognize you Tyr," Papa speaks up, "We have never seen you so big." The cat huffs unhappily.

"Well open your other gifts." King Jareth instructs. I rip off the paper on the book quickly and freeze. Turning to the first page, tears well up in my eyes. The book was "Hogwarts: A History." Written in familiar flowing script was the words, I will be your friend always and forever. The tears came quickly, and I hug the book to my chest with a small sad smile. "Hermione," I whisper, "Thank you." I turn to the last gift of the three and open the packet. It's two sets of paperwork for the British Ministry date June 21, 1972 for the identity of Antares Black-Blythe declaring my birth to Cassiopeia Black and Alessander Blythe, a pureblood. The second one is for the Russian Ministry of Magic, under the Tsar, dated December 21, 1968, for a birth of another male, Raziel Winterfell, a half-blood. Included in Raziel's paperwork is his International equivalent to the British OWLS and NEWTS. "She gave me a second identity and ensured that my paperwork of my birth was in the ministry on June 21, 1972." I say happily.

"Who?" Grandpa Arty asks.

"My friend." I say happily, I am beaming and they're hesitant to question me. King Jareth shoots me a knowing look. I hand over the paperwork to Grandpa Arty and Papa to review. I turn to the seven other gifts. The card on the first proclaims it from Aquila Black. "Grandpa Arty, who is Aquila Black." Arcturus and Alessander glance at each other.

"Aquila is part of the family and only other individual who knows you're a time traveler and adopted into the family." Grandpa says succinctly. I nod in understanding and open the gifts. The first gift is stationary with a strange crest. Peering over my shoulder, Papa laughs.

"That's your personal crest. Aquila must have commissioned it. I always wondered where it came from. The three crows," Papa says tracing the three black birds in flight holding the navy-blue shield against the red clouds with their gold boarders, "are from the Black family crest. I imagine that the red clouds are from my side of the family, my grandmother was particular about red clouds for some reason. The shield," he says indicating the navy-blue shield with the white-black leopard inscribed on it, under a golden star "Is part of the Blythe crest," his finger trails to Celtic circle which entwines around the entire shield, "and this is from the Trelawney crest." Below the crest are the initials, ABB. Along with the stationary are two fountain pens and a crystal inkwell. Aquila's last gift comes with a note in an envelope. The letter only says, you will have to wait until June 21, 1987 to claim this gift. Inside are two contracts for two House Elves, one named Dobby and the other Kreature. I tear up again, I can give Dobby and Kreature a happier future. Kreature had been killed by Ginny with the House elf tried to stop my imprisonment.

All of us are shocked by the next sender, Cassandra Trelawney has gifted me with the missing Trelawney Grimoire, Rowena Ravenclaw's Personal Book Collection – apparently the Ravenclaw line also descended into the Trelawney bloodline – and a silver mechanical owl from India. Not only was the owl pretty and animated (much like Pig, Ron's owl), but apparently no mail wards could stop the owl or tracking spells could adhere to the Owl.

The last gifts give me a great pause, they are from Mortimer Mortis. First came the heirship bracelet to the Mortis family. However, most telling of the identity of the sender are the three other items in a single package – the Elder Wand, the Invisibility Cloak and the resurrection stone." As my family ogled the priceless and mythical gifts, I wanted to bang my head against the wall, violently. What a nightmare! My thoughts were interrupted by a goblin messenger.

"King Jareth, you told me to tell you of the time. It is now necessary for Mr. Black-Blythe to disembark. You have thirty minutes." The next five minutes were crazy. As everything was packed up into my new chest and prepared for departure. Tyr shrunk down and regally curled around my shoulders.

* * *

 **December 21, 1981.** I open the door to the time chamber, as papa calls it, to the family parlor. The parlor is connected to a small library. Aunt Cassie, Grandpa Arty, Grandma Mel and Papa handed me letters to give to their younger selves when I arrive. Papa also warned me that I would have to wait a few hours until he appeared. He told me to read one of my new books. I take a seat of a plush blue chair in the parlor and put my chest down, enlarging it. I pick out a book, "Hogwarts: A History." Before I begin reading, I places the four letters onto the coffee table in front of me. I also shrink down the chest and place it in my pocket. Tyr curled up on my chest as I read.

Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was founded in 981 A.D., by the four magic practitioners who would revolutionize modern magical studies and educational practices. These four practitioners are Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin. However, it is important to note that the initial fourth founder, Silvanus Slytherin, was replaced by Salazar Slytherin, his oldest son. Silvanus Slytherin came into disagreement over the admittance of Muggle-born witches and wizards to Hogwarts with Godric Gryffindor, his house's former representative Knight. Marquise Rowena Ravenclaw and Madam Hufflepuff supported the acceptance of Muggle-born students to Hogwarts. Silvanus left Hogwarts, leaving his oldest son in his stead. Let it be known that Salazar agreed with Marquis Gryffindor over the issue. Where Gryffindor and Hufflepuff are considered progressive individuals and Ravenclaw is considered a Conservative, who cautious toward change, Salazar is a traditionalist.

However, what separated Salazar from his father was that Salazar saw the need to bring Muggle-born students into Hogwarts for their protection and for the protection of pureblood families. This ultimately change the tone of most pureblood families to the acceptance of Muggle-born witches and wizards in their society and the efforts they put into reeducation. However, a lesser group of purebloods consider muggles inferior and my relation, they consider muggle-born witches and wizards inferior as well. To that extent, this pureblood division does not believe that Muggle-born students have a place in Hogwarts, albeit they reluctantly allow muggle-born witches and wizards a place in their society…

As absolutely fascinating the book is, my eyes steadily grow tired and I am sound asleep when the book falls onto my lap.

* * *

 **December 21, 1981.** The Lord of Twilight, also privately known as Earl Alessander Azrael Silas Casmir Mikhail Blythe-Trelawney, sits on his mother-of-pearl throne-like seat at the head of the Gray-Neutral faction of the British House of Legislation. The seat is positioned on a balcony above the Gray-Neutral party. The white-marble circular hall, similar to the Roman Forum, is divided into four parts. Opposite each other is the Lord of Light, Albus Dumbledore, who has declared his position publicly. Dumbledore is seated on a white granite throne-like chair. His opposite, the Lord of Darkness, who is rumored to be either Nicolas Flamel or his heir, Tommas Flamel-Slytherin, sat, shrouded in a black cloak, on a black marble throne-like chair. Between these two factions is the Gray-Neutral party and across from them is the section shared by the Lord of Nightfall, Aquila Black and the Lady of Daybreak, who only Aquila and Alessander known as Rhiannon Lovegood. Beneath the Lord of Nightfall and the Lady of Daybreak sit the Ministry officials and various unaligned politicians.

The legislative structure consisted of The House of Nobility, which has One-hundred-and-five seats with four tiers - Duke/Duchess, Marquis/Marquise, Earl/Countess and Lord/Lady – each more powerful than next. There is also the House of Elective Commons with thirty-five Seats. The House of Elective common consists of fifteen Individuals voted in based on Geographical Representation and twenty individuals representing separate Guilds. The House of Spirituals has fourteen seats – seven male spirituals and seven female spirituals. A pair, one female and one male, of spiritualists represents a prevalent faith. The Ministry Representatives hold eighteen Seats (Head of Education, Head of Magical Creatures Relations, Unspeakable Representative, Head of Goblin Affairs, Head of Aurors, Minister of Magic, Head of Foreign Affairs, Head of Agriculture, Head of Muggle Security, Head of Muggle Relations, Head of Treasury, Head of Commerce, Head of Labor, Head of Natural Resources, Head of Human Health Services, Head of Urban Development, Head of Foreign Trade and Head of Natural Development). There are five additional seats, representing the Lords and/or ladies of Magic (Twilight, Light, Darkness, Nightfall and Daybreak).

The seat for the ultimate authority remains empty since the Royal family's murder. The two survivors' whereabouts is unknown, but what is known is that they're in hiding until Prince Bran of the Royal House of Pendragon-Emrys reaches majority and is crowned. The other two seats belong to the Royal Scribe, which is also empty and the First Consort of the future King, again an empty seat. Alessander cannot wait until those three seats are filled. Perhaps then, someone will have the authority to prevent Albus Dumbledore from throwing his considerable fame and fortune around to gain allies and for others to switch allegiances.

Les has the suspicion that Albus has been accepting bribes from others. There's also the question of why the muggle-born students of Hogwarts go untested for their bloodlines. If a muggle-born claims an older bloodline, they automatically gain a seat in the House of Legislation. Les also shared the suspicion with the Lord of Nightfall and Lady of Daybreak, that Dumbledore has been keeping his students ignorant to their potential heritage and fortune, so he can line his own pockets with their fortunes and heritage. Although, how he can do it, legally or illegally, is unknown. Personally, Les firmly believes that Dumbledore should not have authority over the largest school in Britain. He has been sending out half-educated mindless sheep in the last three decades since assuming the role.

Tonight, was the Winter Solstice, Dumbledore had purposely scheduled the meeting on this day, to snub the practicing Druidic magic practitioners. Something which even drew anger from his own faction. The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, a power-hungry fool, began the meeting. "On this evening's agenda, we five new legislative proposals to discuss and ten petitions." Cornelius says this just as Les sensing someone trespassing in his ancestral manor. He shoots a look at Dumbledore, but the man is glaring avidly at the cloaked Lord of Darkness. Les sends out a tendril of magic to examine his wards. His wards are intact, whatever the presence is, it is not from the outside. That only leaves two options – a house elf had popped inside, or the time chamber was used. Whichever it is, Les hopes that individual has patience considering the nature of his meeting. He cannot leave it with the doors magically barred until the conclusion of the meeting and the dragged out debates. Fuck, he mentally swore.

* * *

It was late evening, after the Legislative meeting, which Dumbledore had called. The man tended to choose the most offense dates to the Druidic pureblood populace. Thankfully, the Lord of Light could only call meetings between July first and December thirty-first of every year and once a month for six months at that. The Lord of Darkness selected meetings between January first and June thirtieth, once a month for six months. The Lord of Twilight was given twelve meetings to choose the dates for, which irked the Lord of Light. Arcturus Black leaned back in his black-leather wingback chair as he waited for his many-greats younger cousin, Aquila Black. Aquila was the bastard son of Cygnus Black II and his lover, Garrett Capulet. Garret had carried their unexpected child and birthed him in 1964. Aquila is the half-brother of Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Andromeda Black Tonks, Narcissa Black Malfoy, Caspian Capulet and Corbin Capulet. In the aftermath of the affair and pregnancy, Lana Alderwood Capulet divorced her husband, Garrett Capulet, of twelve years to marry her lover, Garrett's younger sister, June Capulet. It had been a fucking mess.

Aquila had been named Lord of Nightfall by Mother magic giving the bastard child of the Black bloodline more prestige than he would otherwise have gained. Furthermore, it appears that Aquila would be named the Marquis Black as there was no other viable heirs. The Malfoy children were not an option. Arcturus had never approved of the illegally made marriage contract between Narcissa Black and Claudius Malfoy. A betrothal contract usually passed between the Heads of the family, Cygnus Black II, was the not the head of the fucking family, no matter the airs he and his wife put on. Arcturus casually glances at the family tapestry which holds the entirety of the Black bloodline, excluding the disownments passed before Arcturus becoming the head of the family. Arcturus had reinstated any magical children of the Black bloodline born from Marius Black and Phineas Black. Despite Walburga's attempts, he had not disowned either Alphard Black or Sirius Black III, albeit with Sirius's imprisonment, the Black noble title could no longer pass onto him, the rightful heir.

Arcturus abruptly freezes, staring at shock at the softly glowing name threading itself into the tapestry under cousin, Cassiopeia Black's name, joining the Black and Blythe-Trelawney bloodline. As Arcturus stares stunned, there is a knock on his study door. Still enraptured by the thread, Arcturus makes a sound in the back on his throat, which his visitors took as permission to enter. Seventeen-years-old Aquila Black enters the study. His immediately notes the expression of stunned amazement tainted with confusion on the face of Marquis Arcturus Black. The man's eyes are fixated on the wall beside the door. Turning on his heel, Aquila is stunned to see the new names added to the ancient tapestry, Antares Black-Blythe, was clearly labeled having been born in 1972.

"That does not make sense!" Arcturus exclaims staggering to his feet to examine the new name with his fingers. Arcturus had been sorely disappointed when his grandson, Regulus Black, who was betrothed to Earl Alessander Blythe-Trelawney, had died before conceiving, carrying and giving birth to an heir combining both the Black bloodline and the Blythe bloodline. However, Cassiopeia was now connected with Alessander producing a child. Arcturus knew that Alessander or Les, could not have conceived a child with Cassie, the man couldn't get it up for a woman. Arcturus could remember with great deal of humor and chagrin, a drunk Les telling a large-breasted barmaid, "Please remove your udders from my face." Suffice to say the poor barmaid had left a red memento across Alessander's right cheek. The slap had surprised Les into drenching himself in ale. It was quite the evening.

"I have a cousin?" Aquila squawked in surprise, "He would be nine or almost nine." Aquila murmured.

"I don't know how this is possible, but I imagine I need speak with Cassie." Arcturus says heading for the floo.

* * *

Les appeared in the private hall, meant solely for family to apparate in. The moon was shining through the blue-green stained glass window over the cherrywood door which lead into the solarium and backdoor into the Rose garden. "Mimsy," Les calls out, the house elf appears without fanfare, just a slight pop of displaced air, "Do I have any guests?"

"No, Master Les," Mimsy says, "But the time chamber was making clanking and grr sounds. The parlor doors won't budge."

"Thank you Mimsy, please go to bed. It's later than I thought. I will deal with the time chamber." The house elf nods and pops away to the House elf quarters. As a child Les had explored the old estate extensively, finding the House elves' quarters in the narrow space between the kitchen and the outer wall, warmed by the kitchen's chimney. It was warm in the winter and cool in the summer. Each house elf family had four rooms to themselves, including a bathroom with a shower and tub. House elves nested, so there were no beds, but far too many pillows and blankets. Les had introduced his many house elves to a mattress on the floor, which they accepted reluctantly. Les also paid his house elves, three knuts a day with which they bought themselves and their children little treats. The strawberry-blond haired man makes his way up the narrow stair which leads to the family quarters, the private library and the Time chamber, with some trepidation. The parlor connected to the time chamber, also sealed shut until the master of the house opened it if someone came through to leave information.

So, Les was not prepared for the sight which met his tired eyes when he opened the door to the parlor. Four letters laid out on the table addressed to four different people – check, it was common enough – and a sleeping boy on his sofa – okay, that entitled an internal panic attack. Why was a child sleeping on his sofa? What was the child doing using his time chamber? He quietly and hesitantly made his way closer to the sleeping child. The boy was obviously of some relation to his family, but how? Maybe to his half-brother, Ramiel Trelawney, and half-sister, Sybill Trelawney? As Les leaned in to get a better of the boy, the cat on the boy's chest, which did not notice at first, let out a fierce growl of discontent, waking the boy as Les reared back tripping over the coffee table and falling on his ass. The boy was awake. Les watches as the boy calms his cat before looking around for the source of the disturbance. His eyes settle on Les and his big blue-gray eyes seem to grow in size.

Abruptly, Les had a child on sitting on his stomach, "Papa!" the boy exclaims hugging. Les looks around wildly before realizing that the child was referring to him as Papa. He pats the monkey-child clinging to him hesitantly on the back, making the boy cling tighter. "Um…" Les says, "I don't recall having a child." The monkey-child leans back releasing Les. Giving the man a grin with a little embarrassment coloring it, he replies.

"Err… I suppose that's because you adopted me today, well five years and six months in the future." The boy turns and picks up one of the letters and hands it to Les. It's written in my own handwriting. The child pokes at his cat, who has taken over the warm spot on the couch before the fire, heated up by the little boy's body. The cat bats away his finger halfheartedly. The child sighs, plopping down on the floor. After staring at the two for a long moment, Les opens the letter.

 **Dearest Self,**

I write this letter knowing you will have many questions. I cannot answer them all. Today, I adopted the child I raised from December 21, 1981, to the current date, June 21, 1986. His name is Antares Black-Blythe. Any test performed on him will confirm his identity as your son and his surrogate's, Cassiopeia Black's, son. The boy's original identity was Harry James Potter. He arrived at Gringotts looking for an escape for Dumbledore's manipulations, we were waiting for him. I know that this raises all sorts of questions. I will answer one and you will not ask our son anything. He's a traveler from a parallel dimension who found himself in his younger body in this dimension. He has been hurt and betrayed. You will not learn this from him, but from the family magic. He is nine years old. The Goblin King arranged for an adoption method which is relatively obscured. He is our son in blood, magic and flesh. Be careful with him. He's been through a lot and is delicate. Although he may protest, give him a lot of physical affection.

Now onto other subjects. In 1983, we will remove Albus Dumbledore from Hogwarts after he targets Ana for his dark pureblood heritage. To begin the process, I have listed a number of sources you should contact and investigate. You will want to bring his surrogate, Lord of Nightfall, Lady of Daybreak, Marquis Black and wife in on this consider their invested interest in both Ana and the removal of Albus Dumbledore. Nicolas Flamel must replace Dumbledore.

 **Take care of our son,**

 **Shower him with love,**

 **Les Blythe-Trelawney**

 **PS:** I have included businesses we should invest in and who wins certain Quidditch games of interest.

Les looks up to look at his son but finds the child asleep. He sighs, stands and picks up his son. He can't help the reverence he regards the nine-year-old with when the boy curls into his chest seeking warmth and comfort. As Les leaves the room, the cat springs to his feet and trails after them.

* * *

 **To Be Continued.**


End file.
